


Golden Girl

by that_one_urchin



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Band Fic, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25092028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_one_urchin/pseuds/that_one_urchin
Summary: Light falls over the window, illuminating Josie to the point that it almost appears as if she’s an extension of the sun and not a human being. Warmth spreads through Hope’s body as she stares, memorizing the tiny details of Josie’s bright smile.She looks beautiful.She looks golden.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman, Landon Kirby/Hope Mikaelson, Milton "MG" Greasley/Lizzie Saltzman
Comments: 215
Kudos: 1048





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I watch the light move during the day. And you know what happens at 5:30? You turn gold. - Maya Hart

The faint sound of wood clattering against the ground causes the drummer to sigh in frustration. She wipes slippery palms on the rough denim of her jeans, cleaning the sweat off before reaching for the drumsticks again.

Hope Mikaelson begins to play with renewed vigor. Steady, rhythmic thumps fill the garage in no time. Her anger drives her hands wild soon enough and the pace picks up, growing rapid as Hope plays with more speed. She pushes herself to go faster, eager to finally match the tempo she’s been working towards for two hours.

_Just a bit faster…_

_Faster…_

“Ah!” Hope hisses audibly and clutches her hand to her chest on instinct. Crimson paints three of her fingers and her drums.

Upon inspection, Hope notices the dry cracks in her palm have split to the point of bleeding. Her skin is pinkened from exertion and light green in several places, marking healing bruises. Hope’s hands have turned into somewhat of a crime scene. Blood is no stranger to her and neither is the near-constant ache in her wrists.

Hope merely sighs after assessing the damage, more annoyed with having to take a break than anything else. She stands and walks to the back of the garage, where a bowl of ice water is waiting for her.

The water’s color morphs into pale pink as she dunks her hands beneath the surface. The chill that runs up Hope’s spine only serves to remind Hope of how hot it has grown inside the garage. It traps heat even in December, so now that it’s summer the warmth of the room is almost unbearable.

No matter. She’ll just have to wear less layers, shorter shorts, tighter tops.

Hope chews her lip thoughtfully, wondering where she could find more thin, long-sleeved shirts. Her body isn’t high up on her short list of insecurities, but the small, circled design just above her wrist makes number one.

Soulmate marks are… personal.

“Hope.” Her aunt, Rebekah, walks into the garage through the house entrance. She wrinkles her nose instantly at Hope’s appearance. “Make yourself presentable. The neighbors just moved in. We’re going to go say hello.”

“I’m presentable.” Hope grumbles, wringing out her wet hands to air-dry them.

Rebekah raises her eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. Hope scowls as she looks down at herself. She’s wearing a simple, black tank top that is now soaked through with sweat, and jeans that are in a similar state. Both articles of clothing are darkly colored, so there are no visible stains.

Hope doesn’t see a problem.

She towels off anyways, knowing Rebekah won’t hesitate to force her into the shower. “Why do we have to introduce ourselves?”

“It’s polite.”

Hope wants to explain that she doesn’t give a rat’s ass about being polite, but unfortunately (or, maybe, fortunately) Rebekah is gone before Hope can get another word out.

Reluctantly, Hope starts to rifle through some of the larger containers stacked against the wall. She keeps some spare clothes in the second row. Hope spends a few minutes trying to find something with long sleeves that isn’t overly heavy. She settles on a deep blue flannel and carelessly pulls it over her shoulders.

If Hope adjusts it properly, it doesn’t look too bad, despite it being slightly oversized. It might be one of Landon’s forgotten shirts from middle school.

“Hope!” Rebekah calls. “Come on!”

“Okay, okay.” Hope complains under her breath. She pats her drum kit lovingly on the way out.

Unsurprisingly, Rebekah is waiting with a rather dramatic look on her face. Jesus, Hope hadn’t taken _that_ long to get ready.

Hope holds up her hands in surrender as she joins her aunt on the lawn. She smooths her hair back, trying to appear a bit better looking. It would probably be wise to make a good first impression. These are her next-door neighbors, after all. They’ll have to deal with Hope’s late night drumming, so it would be nice if they had a good opinion of Hope beforehand.

As they approach the other house, Hope spots a bearded man heading through the front door. He looks to be busy with carrying several boxes. Hope searches for someone else, and her eyes quickly land on a tall blonde standing by the moving van.

“Hi. I’m Rebekah Mikaelson.” The cheery tone she uses has Hope fighting an eye roll. “This is my niece, Hope. We live next door.”

An elbow nudges Hope’s side quite unhelpfully. Hope stops inspecting the blonde - she looks around Hope’s age, but dresses as if she’s much, much older - and internally panics for a second as Rebekah discreetly stares her down.

What is she supposed to do? Rebekah already went ahead and introduced them both.

Hope settles on awkwardly holding out her hand for the other girl to take. She cringes internally, but is thankful when the blonde returns the gesture without commenting on it.

“I’m Lizzie Saltzman.”

Thankfully, the bearded man comes back out of the house before things can get too awkward again. While Rebekah launches into adult talk with the man - Alaric - Hope allows herself to relax a little. It’s nice to have the attention off of herself.

That is, until Rebekah follows Alaric into the house and completely abandons Hope.

Lizzie’s head tilts to the side, her eyes glinting with something that immediately unsettles Hope. She gets the sense that the only reason Lizzie refrained from teasing her over that greeting was because of her aunt being there.

“Are you good with your hands?” Lizzie asks out of the blue, turning to gather a couple boxes.

Hope blanks. “Uh-“

A sizable stack of boxes is suddenly placed in Hope’s hands. Hope staggers to the side, nearly tipping over at the unexpected weight. It takes a second, but she manages to settle herself.

“First room on the left, upstairs.” Lizzie says simply.

Hope frowns when she realizes that it’s more of a command than a request, but she wills herself not to complain. Her last neighbors were never very appreciative of her drumming and would often come over to complain or (on worse days) would just send the police over. She hopes that things will be different with the Saltzmans.

“Chop, chop.” Lizzie claps her hands in the air. Hope fights back a growl.

_Be nice, be nice._

Hope carefully maneuvers up the driveway. It isn’t hard to carry all of the weight, but she finds difficulty in navigating a house that isn’t hers while barely being able to see.

Thankfully, Hope stumbles upon the stairs and manages to climb up them without falling on her ass. It’s no small feat. Hope is winded by the time she reaches the hallway. She doesn’t think twice about going through the first door on the left, as instructed, and dropping the boxes on the floor.

If it sounds like something broke - well, that’s Lizzie’s problem.

Hope barely gets a chance to catch her breath before someone smacks something against the back of her head.

“Ow, what the fuck?” Hope spins around and dodges the attacker’s next swing by ducking. “Stop, stop, stop. Lizzie sent me.”

The blows to her head halt abruptly once Hope mentions Lizzie’s name. Hope probably should have done that sooner. At least now she gets to actually look at the girl who has been trying to murder her with a… ukulele?

The girl has delicate, soft features and an adorable mess of a bun on her head. Hope absorbs the view of doe eyes, full lips, and a slightly scrunched nose. She suddenly wonders how she had been afraid a second ago.

This girl seems so innocent, like maybe she accidentally wandered out of a Disney movie.

“You’re not a robber?” She questions, the instrument still held up in warning.

Hope laughs but chokes it back when she notices the ukulele sway towards her slightly. “I was putting things in your room, not taking things out of it.”

“Oh.”

The girl hesitates before allowing the ukulele to hang loosely at her side. Her guarded stance relaxes considerably once she seems to realize that Hope isn’t a threat. Hope finds herself relaxing with her, now that she knows she won’t be hit again.

“I’m Josie.” Josie nestles her plump bottom lip between her teeth. The shy action causes a sudden rush of affection to pulse through Hope.

_Josie._

Hope hears the name ring in her head. It echoes for some reason, as if on a constant loop. It plays so loudly that Hope nearly misses how Josie offers her hand.

“I’m Hope.” She replies.

Foreign fingertips accidentally slip under Hope’s sleeve during the handshake, nearly skimming her mark. Hope presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth, feeling an odd tension build at the base of her spine.

“Do you usually try to assault your guests?” Hope questions teasingly, hoping a joke will crack the strange feeling.

Josie only grips her hand tighter, returning Hope’s smirk. “Do you usually try to sneak into people’s rooms?”

Whatever protest Hope has about not sneaking in dies in her throat as the handshake becomes a little too firm. She winces, remembering the cuts along her palm, and Josie’s puzzled expression falls to Hope’s hand.

“Sorry.” Josie not only pulls her hand away but takes several steps back. “Give me a second.”

Hope ignores the annoying tug in her stomach, the one that is irritated with Josie for letting her go. She has a boyfriend. More so, she has a soulmate. It’s weird of her to be standing around, longing for the touch of some stranger.

Yet, Hope can’t help but be relieved when Josie returns, this time with a jar of some sort of cream.

Josie steps back into Hope’s personal space without an ounce of hesitation. Hope stays still, allowing the other girl to take her wrist and inspect her palm. Josie’s lips form a small frown as she twists open the jar and begins to apply some of the substance to Hope’s cuts and bruises.

“What’s that?” Hope questions, sniffing the air. It smells earthy. Close to rosemary, but not quite.

“Oh, it’s sana.” Josie explains, which only serves to confuse Hope more. “It’s a plant. My aunt, Bonnie, is kind of a witch with healing creams.”

Hope nods at that. The cream is sort of cold, but it feels soothing on her skin. Eventually, her skin absorbs the cream, but Hope lingers around for longer than necessary. It feels nice to have someone take care of her so thoroughly. She hasn’t had anyone do that in a while.

“What happened?” Josie’s thumb carefully traces over a sore spot.

“I drum… sort of aggressively.” Hope explains, pleased when her comment makes Josie giggle. “Do you play that ukulele or just hit people with it?”

A faint blush dusts Josie’s cheeks. “I play it.”

Before Hope gets the chance to tease Josie further (something she finds she really, really wants to do), Lizzie barges into the room. They break apart from each other like they’ve been burned. It’s only then that Hope notices she hasn’t properly exhaled since she entered the room.

Lizzie glances over Hope with disinterest. “Oh. You’re still here.”

“Don’t be mean.” Josie rushes to scold Lizzie, sending a bashful smile Hope’s way.

Hope already has a favorite sister.

“Fine. You could be of use.” Lizzie approaches Hope once again and this time Hope backtracks, not wanting to be forced to carry more boxes for her. “Where can we get decent food around here?”

“Uh, Clarke’s is good.”

Shit.

Hope shouldn’t have said that. She has plans to meet up there with Landon and the band in about an hour, and now there’s a chance that she’ll run into Lizzie there. Though, running into Josie somewhere wouldn’t be so bad. She already has the sneaking suspicion that MG and Josie would get along.

They could even be soulmates.

Now that Hope thinks about it, she forgot to check to see if Josie has a mark. It doesn’t look like it, but Hope can’t be sure. She wonders if Josie has turned eighteen yet - she does have a bit of a baby face.

“Alright, enough checking out my twin.” Lizzie bats her away, ignoring Hope’s protests. “You can leave now.”

“Twin?” Hope repeats. They look nothing alike.

“We’re fraternal, genius.”

The door slams in Hope’s face. Hope gapes at the wood, considering knocking on it, but she drops her fist before it can make contact. What is she even doing? Those girls are strangers and this isn’t her house. She has her own home to return to.

Hope descends the stairs, ridding the ridiculous idea of sticking around from her mind. She tells her aunt that she’s leaving and does just that, not feeling properly safe until she’s shut up in the basement again.

Thanks to Josie, her hands feel fine again. Hope considers going back to drumming, but decides against it. She has to meet her friends soon. The least she could do for them is shower so they won’t have to deal with her stench.

God, did she talk to Josie smelling like this?

Hope frowns, wishing she had taken Rebekah’s comment about being presentable more seriously. There’s nothing she can do about it now. She longingly glances at her drum kit once more before backing out of the garage, but stops suddenly as she catches sight of something unexpected.

If she stands on her tippy toes, she can see out the window from this angle. It gives her a full view of the house beside her’s, the one that belongs to the Saltzmans.

Josie is sitting near the bay window in her bedroom, her legs crossed and the ukulele set delicately in her hands as she strums something Hope can’t hear. Whatever it is, Josie must know it by memory, because her eyes are shut as she plays.

Light falls over the window, illuminating Josie to the point that it almost appears as if she’s an extension of the sun and not a human being. Warmth spreads through Hope’s body as she stares, memorizing the tiny details of Josie’s bright smile. She looks beautiful.

She looks golden.

Hope sinks to the floor, feeling creepy and invasive. She should really shower.

  
  


Not long after her encounter with the Saltzman twins, a freshly showered Hope is stepping into Clarke’s with a much better opinion of her appearance.

It’s easy to spot her friends, since the place is mostly empty. Not a lot of people would want to come to an old diner for dinner when Mystic Falls has more modern options, but Hope adores their fries and the lack of a crowd whenever she comes here.

Penelope, MG, and Landon are all waiting for her with two large plates of fries and an untouched milkshake. Their expressions brighten when they see her, all of them waving and shifting around to accommodate her. Hope slides into the seat beside Landon as always, fitting in the small booth easily with her short legs.

Landon grins extra wide at her presence and presses his mouth to her’s. Kissing Landon is as familiar as breathing - Hope does it without thinking and without emotion.

“What are we talking about?” Hope questions, settling further into the booth.

Penelope smirks. “MG’s love life.”

She takes a sip of the milkshake they ordered for her. Peanut Butter Blast. Good.

“What love life?” Hope counters. She stops drinking when she notices MG’s crestfallen look. “Sorry, dude.”

“I just want to find _the one_ , you know?” MG picks at a fry, his eyebrows pinched in clear distress.

Hope feels worse for making that comment. She hadn’t meant anything by it, but MG being a total hopeless romantic has been a running joke in the group. Plenty of girls like him, but none are his soulmate. It’s hard to feel sympathy for him, especially when he broke up with Kym a few months ago and caused them to lose their lead singer, Kaleb.

“Oh, she knows.” Landon interjects, not giving Hope a chance to cheer MG up. His arm goes over Hope’s shoulders. “We’re very lucky.”

Well, that’s douchey of him.

Hope’s mouth twists into a frown at the same time MG’s does. She wishes that Landon would stop mentioning the soulmate thing everywhere they go. It’s no secret that they’re ending up together - people have known that since elementary school. They don’t need to throw it in everyone’s face.

“You haven’t even gotten your mark yet.” Hope whispers under her breath, unable to resist.

“But I _will_.” Landon stresses, not bothered in the slightest. “My birthday is-“

“At the end of the week, I know. It’s not today, is it?” Hope closes her eyes and chews her straw, not wanting to deal with the situation she just created.

He’s not even eighteen yet.

Hope has no doubts that the talisman on her wrist will show up somewhere on Landon, but it hasn’t happened yet. It’s like declaring that your heart will continue to beat. Sure, everyone expects it to go on with its steady rhythm, but saying it aloud will only jinx it.

After a moment, Hope opens her eyes again. She leans over and kisses Landon’s cheek solidly enough to put the smile back on his face.

“What do you want to do for your birthday? We can do whatever you want.” Hope offers, glad to see his face soften and know that she’s safely avoided an argument.

“I was thinking about a pool party.” Landon says.

Everyone nods. It’s summer and Landon has the biggest pool out of them all, so it’s the only logical thing to do.

The door opens and closes behind them with two quiet thuds. Hope wouldn’t think twice about it if it weren’t for MG suddenly stopping to gawk at whoever just entered. His expression catches everyone’s attention and they all slowly turn to see who he is looking at.

It’s the Saltzman twins.

Something in Hope’s chest constricts painfully. It would make so much sense for MG and Josie to meet and fall in love right now, when they’re having a conversation about how MG wants to find _the one_. The universe acts in strange ways when it comes to these things, usually to the point that it’s comical.

Except it’s really not funny, how much Hope’s chest hurts. She touches it absentmindedly, wondering if this is what an upcoming heart attack feels like.

No more milkshakes for her.

“Wow. She’s stunning.” MG breathes and Hope’s head bobs in a nod, because he’s absolutely right.

Josie has changed into a pair of dark blue shorts and a crop top. Her waist is noticeably tiny, probably small enough that Hope could fit both her hands around it, but her hips jut out quite attractively. Not to mention her legs, which are so much longer than Hope realized. Seriously, how does she-

Hope bites her tongue. Hard. She tastes metal and snaps herself out of whatever trance she’s in. It’s natural to check out other people, especially as a teenager, but her soulmate is _right_ next to her.

She needs to get it together.

So what if Josie is attractive? Hope has been dating Landon since she learned the meaning of the word. They were even born in the same hospital.

“Which one?” Penelope asks.

“The blonde, obviously.” MG responds. If relief floods Hope’s chest, she pretends not to notice.

Hope spins back around and takes Landon with her. They shouldn’t all be leering so obviously. The girls will notice.

“She’s a bitch.” Hope mutters quietly.

Unfortunately, everyone hears it.

“You know her?” MG perks up. He completely ignores the part about Lizzie being a total brat. “You have to introduce me.”

Hope shakes her head. “No.”

All three of them begin to chime in with their opinions. The general consensus is that Hope should go introduce MG, because he’s a pussy (Penelope’s words) and deserves love (Landon’s words).

“I don’t _know_ , know them.” Hope explains, hoping they’ll just leave her alone.

MG leans forward as if he is about to share a secret. His hands clasp together tightly, his eyes growing wide and a little watery as his bottom lip juts out. Then, he tilts his head ever so slightly and makes a small, whimpering noise.

“Please?”

It’s ridiculous.

It’s stupid.

It’s not going to work.

“Oh my god.” Hope huffs and stands, dragging him up with her. “Come on. I’m introducing you and then you’re buying me more fries.”

“Invite them to the party!” Landon calls after them, rather loudly.

Hope tries not to cringe as she walks with MG, who is still nodding gratefully at her. She rolls her eyes at both of the boys. They’re so idiotic. How did any of them ever get girlfriends?

(Maybe Hope should shut up, considering she’s the one dating Landon).

“Hey.” Hope stops in front of their table. She pauses, her mouth opening and closing as she realizes she never made a plan about what to say. “Uh, this is MG.”

Probably caught in the same awkward position as her, MG holds up two thumbs. “I’m MG.”

Great.

Hope glances between MG and Lizzie momentarily, instantly noticing how flustered he looks. Lizzie, on the other hand, seems perfectly composed, except for the very faint blush spread across her cheeks.

“He just wanted to… introduce himself.” Hope scratches the back of her neck.

This is horrible.

Josie giggles at the situation they’re in. She doesn’t seem too bothered about being interrupted, even though both of their menus are propped open like they were in the middle of deciding. Shit. Hope should have spotted that before and had them wait. She should have-

“So, what’s good here?” Josie asks.

It takes Hope longer than she would like to admit to realize that Josie is directing the question at her. Josie has to push the menu into Hope’s thigh to get her attention.

“Oh, uh. I like the fries and Peanut Butter Blast, but I don’t know if you’re allergic to peanuts.” Hope pauses, looking Josie up and down once again. Her eyelashes seem long enough to reach the ceiling. “But you can choose whatever you want, of course.”

MG’s stare burns into Hope’s face the same way a thousand bee stings would. She ignores him, feeling too embarrassing to make eye contact with her childhood friend.

“No, I’ll eat whatever you want me to.” Josie replies and Hope stutters, low in her throat, trying not to take _that_ in a dirty way.

It’s been a while since she’s spoken to anyone new. Hope just prays that this encounter isn’t as awkward to others as it is to her.

“Okay.” Hope draws the word out slowly. “My boyfriend is having a birthday party on Sunday. It’s small but I was wondering if you two want to come?”

“No way in-“ Lizzie jumps in her seat as if she’s been slapped and glares across the table at Josie, who smiles sweetly.

Did Josie just kick Lizzie’s leg?

“We’d love to.” Josie responds. “It’ll be nice to make some friends before school starts.”

“Good. See you there.”

After a long, long second, Hope and MG start to walk away to go sit with Penelope and Landon again. They both slip into different sides of the booth, their gazes distant and their cheeks equally red. Neither one of them says much and Hope is glad, because she doesn’t need anyone to ever replay that moment of her life ever again.

“How was it?” Penelope questions eagerly.

“It was great.” MG rests his chin in his palms, obviously stuck in some sort of daze. “I think I’m in love.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to decide if I should call this my soulmate, band, or neighbors au fic

Hope wakes to pressure on her chest and stifling heat all around her. Her bones ache for the first few minutes of morning, once again reminding her that she shouldn’t fall asleep in the garage.

It takes far too much effort to get up. Hope moves like someone who has aged far beyond her years and not a teenager. There have been many times where she has gone to the mirror, expecting to be met with wrinkles and sullen eyes, and been surprised by the youth on her face.

Now is not one of those times.

Hope startles herself into full consciousness as soon as she feels the unfamiliar scrape of tiny claws on her body. She nearly falls off her bed (a pile of blankets, scraped together and stolen from Rebekah) and hits her head against a cold, hard floor.

In her blurry vision, Hope can make out a small, reddish figure retreating into the shadows.

“Stupid fucking cat.” Hope grumbles in a tone that’s rougher than gravel and far from her usual voice. She clears her throat, hearing a mocking meow float out from one of the room’s corners. “Yeah, yeah. Meow, meow, me-“

“Hope? Are you arguing with the cat?” Rebekah appears out of nowhere, like a vampire.

Hope wishes that someone in this house would give her an ounce of privacy, but she’s had this argument a thousand times before. If she wants privacy, she can go upstairs to her own room. Hope hasn’t done that in weeks. Months, maybe. Not since…

“Maybe.” Hope shrugs off her aunt’s raised eyebrow in favor of rubbing the exhaustion from her eyes.

Her palms are still spotted green-yellow and pink with bruises, but the cracks are almost healed completely. Hope blinks, inspecting her hands more carefully, seeing that the fresh cuts are now glazed over with new skin. She can probably play again today.

“Yoda loves you.” Rebekah says, referring to the cat.

“Yoda is a demon.” Hope responds. Her point is only confirmed by the hiss that mysteriously comes from somewhere in the garage.

Demon cat.

As if hearing her thoughts, the cat only hisses louder at Hope, to the point that she decides to leave for fear of her safety. She wanders out into the kitchen, abandoning Rebekah in the garage with her vicious pet.

It’s not long after Hope pours herself a hefty bowl of Lucky Charms when the doorbell rings. Hope lifts her spoon, watching sugary milk teem out of the utensil, unbothered by the noise. None of her friends have the decency to use the bell, so the visitor is presumably Rebekah’s.

Unfortunately, Hope can still distantly hear Rebekah cooing over her cat and (equally unfortunately) the guest rings the bell a second time.

Hope reluctantly sets aside her precious cereal and stands, already on her way to murder whoever is ruining her nice, quiet morning. She opens the door, but a fist collides with her face before she can force out a greeting.

“Ow.” Hope’s hand flies up to her forehead, both trying to shield and comfort herself. She recoils and whoever it is takes that as an invitation to step into her house. “What the fuck?”

“ _Shoot_. I am so sorry. I rang your doorbell twice and I just thought it was broken or something, so I… I really didn’t mean to hit you.” The girl rambles on in a familiar, hurried voice that is actually quite soothing.

Despite her better judgement, Hope drops her defenses and allows her hands to fall to her side. Pain radiates through her skull in one solid ache, but Hope keeps herself still. She refuses to show how much it hurts, now that she knows her attacker is only Josie Saltzman in bunny slippers.

Hope’s eyes fall to Josie’s clothed feet, her amusement growing at seeing the white, fluffy fabric.

“I’m so sorry.” Josie repeats, obviously still distressed.

“It’s okay.” Hope reassures her. She continues to inspect Josie, noticing the fleeting panic in her eyes and the slight puff to her cheeks. “Why are you here?”

Josie twists her mouth to the side, maybe a little embarrassed but perhaps something more. Hope rocks forward slightly, eagerly, until she comes to her senses and settles back on her heels.

_What is she doing?_

“You never gave us an address or time for the party.” Josie finally explains. She tucks her hands behind her back, as if worried one of her fists will fly out to smack Hope in the face again.

“Oh. Right.” Hope flushes at the memory of that particular encounter. “Do you want to come in? I could write it down for you.”

Josie nods at the offer and Hope politely steps out of the way to let her through. With Josie’s back turned, Hope takes advantage of her chance to properly inspect the other girl.

A tanned throat and delicate collarbones disappear down into a yellow shirt, a path of freckles abruptly cut off by the bright fabric. The tiny dots lay like sprinkled cinnamon against Josie’s skin, too sweet to not take notice of. Hope gulps messily, surprised with her own leering.

She manages to gain some control by the time they reach the kitchen, but not much. Truthfully, the mystery of Josie’s soulmark has sat discreetly in Hope’s head for two days now.

Hope has the undying urge to rip off Josie’s shirt, if only to try and find it, but doing so would be the same as exposing her nipple - not illegal, but frowned upon, especially with strangers. Her own mark is secured by a wide bandage, so she has no room to complain about Josie keeping hers concealed.

If Josie even has one. Josie could very easily be under eighteen or simply not have one at all. That happens sometimes, to a few unlucky people.

“Hope?” Josie prompts.

It’s only then that Hope notices she has been standing in the kitchen for several seconds now, neither grabbing a piece of paper or writing. She jumps into action, beginning to scribble down the details on a spare napkin, all while trying to tame the raging heat on her skin.

Years of only speaking to the same few people have clearly made her socially inept.

“So… your boyfriend.” Josie’s eyes roam the kitchen, a tiny smile grazing her lips as she spots the Lucky Charms. “Is he your soulmate?”

Hope nearly cries in relief at the subject change. _This_ she can do. Talking about Landon is akin to describing the back of her hand or instructing someone on how to breathe in oxygen.

“Yeah. Well, no. Probably.” Hope frowns down at the paper. _Not so easy, after all_. Her tongue feels oddly thick in her mouth, as if it had enlarged in a matter of seconds. “We’ve been dating since, like, kindergarten, but he isn’t eighteen yet so I don’t know.”

Josie’s smile grows. “That’s cute.”

Hope nods absentmindedly. That’s the response she usually gets from people. How _cute_ it is to have had Landon’s arms wrapped around her since birth. How _adorable_ it must be to have this constant, suffocating reassurance that he will never leave her.

She imagines that’s what having a soulmate is supposed to feel like. Safety. Blind faith. Waking up in the morning and not worrying if the other will be there.

“What about you?” Hope asks, capping her pen and tucking it back to where she’d found it.

“I’m seventeen.” Josie replies, with all the hopeful ease of _not_ knowing. “I guess the universe will tell me what to do.”

Josie cringes a moment later, her nose wrinkling in embarrassment and her hands raising to hide her blush. She releases a flustered little noise, one so sweet that Hope finds the Disney Princess description fitting once again.

“Oh my god, that sounded so cheesy.” Her bottom lip juts out, her cheeks delightfully full of color. “It’s like I’m in one of those romance movies where the girl’s soulmate is her best friend or something.”

Hope’s eyebrows raise, amused. “Like the one with Ryan Gosling?”

“Yes. Did you see it?” Josie questions excitedly. Hope shakes her head.

“No.”

She’ll definitely add it to her watchlist now.

The front door opens and multiple voices fly in from the hallway. Hope sighs as loud, familiar chatter fills the house, and ignores Josie’s questioning look. She isn’t surprised in the slightest when the band stumbles in with Landon and their instruments in tow.

“Mikaelson, are you-“ Penelope’s words fall short at the sight of Josie. In fact, everyone becomes quiet once they realize someone new is joining them. “Aren’t you the one with the hot sister?”

Hope nearly hits Penelope with her spoon. The only thing that stops her is MG doing it for her, all while muttering under his breath that Penelope doesn’t have an inch of tact.

Josie is beginning to resemble a frightened deer, so Hope decides to save her.

“Guys, this is Josie. I invited her to Landon’s party. Remember?” After Hope fixes them all with a stern look, they nod in unison.

“I’m Landon.”

“Penelope.”

“You already met me…” MG scratches his neck sheepishly. “But I’m MG.”

Hope taps her fingers on the counter to a beat she doesn’t know, one she suddenly itches to write down. She almost forgot that they planned practice today, but the sight of her friends has brought her rhythm back.

“I remember you.” Josie nods, her gaze going down to the instruments in their hands. “Are you guys in a band or something?”

“Yes. Pussy Party.” Penelope keeps a surprisingly straight face while MG and Landon crack smiles.

Hope’s face loses all color. “It’s really not called that. Don’t listen to her.”

Some part of her wants to call off practice entirely so her friends have no more chances to embarrass her, but that would be idiotic. Josie is basically a stranger. Hope’s determination is what drives her, she can’t be bothered with trying to make new friends, and yet…

“Do you want to stay and watch?” Hope offers, her expression shifting from blank to sheepish as she receives several inquisitive stares. “We’re about to practice.”

Josie seems to be considering it. “Sorry, I can’t. I have a boxing lesson.”

“ _You_ have a boxing lesson?” Landon asks, causing Josie’s gentle smile to slip.

Hope refrains from smacking him upside the head for that comment, but she entertains the thought long enough for it to be satisfying. She understands why someone would underestimate Josie, though.

Josie looks much too kind and nurturing to harm someone, but Hope has sore spots on both sides of her head that argue against that.

“Trust me, she’s kind of scary.” Hope interjects and politely ushers Josie away from her friends, guiding her out the door. She feels more at ease once they’re standing on her porch, away from prying eyes.

“Sorry, again.” Josie murmurs, pointing to Hope’s head so it’s clear what she’s apologizing for.

“It’s okay.”

Josie lingers by for a few extra seconds, her eyes not on Hope’s forehead but lost somewhere else. Before Hope can figure out the location of her gaze, Josie is backing away and descending the steps with one last friendly grin.

The image sticks in Hope’s mind for far too long, the picture of Josie smiling so sweetly at her growing eternal in her memory. She sees it in the black of her closed eyelids, in the shade of her fluttering lashes as she blinks, even as she returns to the kitchen and rejoins her friends.

Hope can’t shake the feeling of her presence until Landon wraps his arms around her, squeezes her hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

Everything about him is so heavy - everything about Josie is light.

“Weird.” Landon murmurs as he holds her, his mouth is at her scalp, his jaw digging into her skull. “Hope has a friend.”

Hope doesn’t find that very funny, but everyone around her seems to. They chuckle at Landon’s comment, MG’s laughter coming the softest. _Is she really so antisocial?_

“I thought you didn’t want us inviting people to practice.” Penelope points out.

“Yeah.” MG chimes in. “You freaked out when I brought Kym that one time.”

It seems impossible, but Landon’s arms settle over her tighter than before. Air goes from freely flowing through her body to barely rattling her lungs, the line between a hug and a strangle practically thinning to nothing.

“I was trying to be friendly.” She shrugs slightly, the action cut off by Landon’s lanky forearms.

“That’s new.”

Hope has the urge to stomp her foot petulantly, like a child who is on the verge of launching into a temper tantrum, but when she thinks about it they’re right - no matter how rude they are being about it. She isn’t one to invite someone into her home, let alone to a practice, and a couple days ago she had allowed Josie to hold her hand for minutes on end.

Something is definitely off.

Hope just doesn’t know _what_.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning of Landon’s birthday, Hope climbs in through his window with his gift tucked under her arm.

She slips from the windowsill and lands on his bed easily, bouncing slightly on the mattress. A quick glance confirms that Landon is nowhere to be seen, but a faint rustling comes from the bathroom. Hope assumes he is in the middle of showering and gets comfortable on the Star Wars sheets.

Landon’s bedroom is the same as it has been since middle school, save for a few small changes. A Mystic Falls High sticker is now glued to the top of his door. The nightstand is chipped from when he fell over and hit his head during a makeout session. That same nightstand has a picture of them on it from freshman year - young, hopeful, and chubby-cheeked.

Hope can’t stop her mind from drifting to Josie. She wonders how her room is decorated. The first and only time Hope saw it, it had been plain except for the stacks of boxes.

Damn it.

It’s barely eight in the morning and Hope is already thinking about Josie. She needs to pinch this _thing_ in the side before it grows into a full-blown crush.

Hope hasn’t had a crush on anyone since the third grade. Roman Sienna. He’d been dashing, with his curls and the cute grin on his face whenever he offered Hope star-shaped stickers. Hope can’t recall any more details about him, other than those short few. She decides it doesn’t matter.

She shouldn’t be thinking about other people while Landon is in the other room, probably carefully looking over his body for the soulmark that matches her’s.

“Ah - Hope!” A high-pitched yelp leaves Landon’s mouth as he emerges from the bathroom and spots her. He quickly drops his voice an octave lower than it usually is. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s your birthday.” Hope responds, each word coming out slowly as her suspicion rises.

Why is he acting weird?

It can’t be because Hope climbed through his window without announcing her presence or asking first. She has been doing that for years now, ever since her Tarzan phase in the fifth grade. This is all as normal as every other day.

Yet, Landon hasn’t moved a muscle or greeted her properly. His face is void of its goofy smile and his eyes pick up speed with every passing second, darting around the room in panic. The most bizarre part of this is the way he clutches his towel to his body like a girl - bunched up around his chest - despite wearing boxers.

“Why are you acting like you need to cover your boobs?” Hope asks, finding his actions ridiculous. She’s seen his bare chest multiple times before. “Did you get your mark or what?”

“Yeah. I got it.” Landon continues to walk to his dresser with the towel as his partner.

“Well, can I see it?”

Hope inspects his back. She traces the familiar line of his spine, the barely-there muscle, the pale skin that bruises so easily and yet doesn’t appear to be marked in any way. That can’t be right. Hope checks again, but the only noticeable mark on him is a particularly large freckle.

Nothing special.

“Landon?” She prompts. At his silence, her hands curl tightly around the gift she brought.

What if Landon isn’t her soulmate? Her whole life would be a lie. Three homecomings, a hundred dates, and thousands of days spent together, only to find out that they shouldn’t be together at all?

For a second, one she will ignore in the near future, Hope feels relief.

“It’s on my ass.” Landon blurts, finally abandoning the towel to get an outfit out of the drawers.

“On your ass?” Hope repeats.

“Yes.” Landon tugs a shirt on too forcefully. “Do you still want to see or-“

“No. _No_.”

Landon smiles at her quick rejection. All is right in the world by the time he has some pants on and, when he eventually joins her on the bed, Hope’s suspicions about them not being soulmates has faded.

Hope offers him the decorated box. He opens the present the way a child would, with rushed hands and glee. Once the wrapping paper comes off, Landon is holding a thick stack of limited edition comic books. Each one is sealed in plastic (which is apparently very important, according to the guy at the store and MG) and has a random, buff man on the cover.

It seems stupid. Landon clearly likes it, though, and she can’t fault him for that, since she moons over expensive paints and drum kits.

“This is so awesome. Thank you.” Landon breathes and hugs her gratefully.

“No problem.” Hope squeezes him back and kisses him chastely once they’ve pulled back, knowing his mom is probably lurking around somewhere. “You want to go downstairs? I’ll make you pancakes.”

Landon brightens at the offer. “ _Chocolate chip_ pancakes?”

“Of course.”

-

Landon’s backyard is decked out by the time the afternoon has come along. Hope and him spent several slow hours working to decorate the yard, their movements languid and their stomachs filled with pancakes.

The entire day has been lazy so far, despite them working through most of it. Less than twenty people are coming over, so there wasn’t much to do. Landon cleaned the pool, set out napkins and utensils, and got the speaker from his room out to play music. Hope ordered two large pizzas, brought out some soda cans, and thoroughly sprayed Landon with a hose during his _Lord of the Rings_ rant.

The end result is the backyard looking nicer than usual and very ready for a small party.

The doorbell rings two minutes into the first song.

“I’m gonna go get the door.” Hope informs Landon, who is already swimming circles in the pool and trying to coax her into joining him.

She has on a bikini underneath but isn’t in the mood to swim just yet, knowing she’ll most likely have to walk to and from the door for the next hour or so. Landon’s mom gets pretty agitated about too much water on the hardwood floors.

“Okay!” Landon calls, dark curls disappearing under the water.

Hope rolls her eyes and strolls back into the house, hearing the constant ringing of the bell all the while. She isn’t surprised to open the door and find MG with Penelope, who is pushing the doorbell insistently.

“Jesus, you’re going to break it.” Hope swats at her hand, concerned with the Kirby family’s property. “Can’t you be patient for once?”

“Breaking things is punk rock.” Penelope shrugs.

“Stop saying random things are punk rock.”

They push past Hope and enter the living room. MG offers a polite smile on his way in, carrying two medium-sized presents that have Landon’s name on them. They go out into the backyard together and easily spot the birthday boy failing to do backflips into the pool.

“He’s going to crack his skull open.” Penelope removes her shirt, revealing a sea green bikini top. She lays out on a chair near the water. “This is top-tier entertainment.”

“He’ll be fine.” MG reassures the girls, but rushes to join Landon when he _does_ almost crack his skull open.

Hope looks between the boys and Penelope, deciding to sunbathe for now. She sits on the chair beside Penelope and stretches out her legs. It’s nice out. Hot, but not enough for her to be sweating through her clothing.

“So.” Penelope laughs at their antics and turns her attention on Hope. “Did Lando get his mark?”

“Yeah.”

“Well? Are we going to see that thing or is it, like, under his balls or something?”

“Ew, no.” Hope screws up her nose at the suggestion. She had thought that Landon’s mark placement was pretty bad, but Penelope’s option sounds much worse. “It’s… on his ass.”

Penelope keeps a straight face for all of two seconds before going rapid-fire with about ten jokes in one minute. Hope rolls her eyes or scoffs at each one, annoyed with herself when the last one actually makes her laugh out loud.

The jokes die down when Hope has to get up for Kaleb’s arrival. It’s a little awkward, considering he left the band, but he had the good sense not to bring his sister (aka MG’s ex). Not to say he didn’t bring guests. Kaleb introduces Hope to Jed, Ethan, and Maya at the door.

Despite just meeting the other three, the new people integrate themselves seamlessly into the group. Everyone is having a perfectly good time, except for Hope, whose mind wanders to Josie.

Josie isn’t there yet. Lizzie isn’t there either, but that’s not as important.

It’s still pretty early, so Hope knows she shouldn’t worry, but soon she’s drawn herself up in a ball near the pool and is sorting through her thoughts. Had she written down the right address? Why hadn’t she asked for Josie’s number at some point? What if she’s not coming at all?

Kaleb flicks water at her. “Yo, Hope. Stop brooding at your boyfriend’s party.”

“I’m not brooding.” Hope replies, while she is, in fact, brooding.

“Okay.” He drawls, giving her an unconvincing look. Kaleb is submerged in the water and Hope is perched very closely by, so he’s able to splash her again. “I think I heard the doorbell ring.”

Hope shoots up in an instant and slows down when Kaleb’s eyebrows lift. He was always a bit too good at reading people in a way that made her uncomfortable. Maybe it’s good that he’s out of the band - but then again, maybe it isn’t, because what kind of band are they without a lead singer?

Either way, Hope needs to pull it together.

She opens the door and is immediately met by the two bickering sisters.

“You take forever to get ready!” Josie points wildly at Lizzie.

“Whatever.” Lizzie tosses her hair behind her shoulder. “Perfection takes time.”

A small rush runs through Hope as she takes in the pink bikini Josie is wearing. She drops her eyes to tan skin and forces them back up not long after, guilt blending into the electric current in her abdomen.

_Damn it. Damn it._ Hope has a boyfriend. A soulmate. A boy who loves her enough to let her invite herself into his house super early in the morning.

It’s Landon’s _birthday_.

Hope can’t be acting like this. She should have told someone else to go get the door.

“Sorry we’re late. _Someone_ takes forever to get dressed.” Josie finally acknowledges her, sparing a glance towards Lizzie. “I brought lavender lemonade.”

Hope has never heard of lavender lemonade before, but it looks heavenly in Josie’s hands. It’s slightly purple and smells wonderful, heavy with the sweet scent of the flower.

“Thanks.” Hope blushes when her voice cracks horribly.

When did she go from sounding like an incoming senior to a lame twelve year old boy?

Lizzie cracks a rude smile but Josie’s acts as if she didn’t hear a thing and takes Hope’s invite into the house. She leads the twins to the back and lingers near them while they go through introductions, careful not to leave them too soon since she knows everyone there is a stranger to them.

“So, the guy with the curly hair is Landon, my boyfriend. Penelope is the tiny one and Maya is wearing the blue bikini.” Hope points at each person while she talks. “Ethan, the dude in the red shorts, is her brother. Kaleb and Jed are fucking around with the music. They’re also dating. MG is- coming right towards us.”

MG wastes no time in pulling Lizzie aside to show her something, so Hope is left alone with Josie and her bikini.

“Um.” Hope scratches the back of her neck, deathly aware of being the only one not in a swimsuit. It’s too hot all of a sudden. She glances at Josie and tries (fails) to remember the English language. “So-“

“Hope!” Penelope calls. “Are you going to flash that pasty Edward Cullen skin or do we not get a peep show?”

Face redder than ever, Hope scowls and finally pulls her shirt off. She isn’t self-conscious about her body, but it feels weird to get undressed now that Penelope has (very rudely) drawn attention to the action. Hope slips her shorts off her body anyways, mostly just to get Penelope to stop embarrassing her.

Penelope wolf-whistles and Hope flips her off in response, watching Penelope dive under the surface of the water.

“Don’t talk to her.” Hope whispers to Josie, the tips of her ears still pink. “She sucks.”

Josie grins, stepping into Hope’s space again. If it were anyone else, Hope would immediately tell them to back off, but it seems all Hope is able to do is blubber like an idiot and surrender to the heat that whips at her cheeks.

“I’ll just talk to you then.” Josie says it innocently, but it feels borderline flirty.

“ _Oh-_ uh. Okay.” Hope forces her feet to retreat, stumbling back without checking where she’s going. “I’ll just-“

The ground is swept out from under her as she falls. She gets a glimpse of Josie’s half-amused, half-panicked face before the water consumes her, and Hope starts to sink into the pool.

Fuck.

-

Ethan and Maya’s heads both emerge from the water at about the same time, gasping and sputtering for breath.

“Nope, tie again.” Kaleb shakes his head, treading off to the side with his phone carefully held over the water. “Fifty seconds, again. Round three?”

The siblings share a competitive look and inhale big gulps of air before diving down under again.

Landon laughs from behind her, his chest shaking Hope’s back. She chuckles, too, as she watches Ethan gesture frantically at Maya under the water, doing crude things with his hands. She wonders what it’s like to have a sibling.

Thinking of siblings reminds Hope of Lizzie and Josie, who have been flanking MG for the entire party. Despite agreeing to talk to Josie, Hope has been ignoring her all afternoon. It’s best to steer clear if Josie can invoke _that_ kind of reaction in her.

Every time Hope swims too close, her skin burns and the guilt readily follows. She has to chant _it’s Landon’s birthday, it’s Landon’s birthday_ over and over in her head to keep from checking Josie out a second (okay, third) time.

“Hope!” MG calls out to her and starts waving his hand when she attempts to ignore him. “Come see this.”

Landon releases her, probably not realizing what kind of torture he is subjecting his girlfriend to. Hope resists the urge to complain when he nudges her closer to the trio and puts on her brave face as she swims over to the edge.

She stays in the pool and leaves some space between them, standing in the shallow end.

“Come see what?” Hope questions, not enjoying how MG doesn’t answer and begins to excitedly poke Josie’s arm.

Since when have they started touching each other?

Since when has she gotten so possessive?

Josie prepares herself momentarily and then shifts slightly closer to Hope, nearly tipping into the pool as she claps her hands together and bats her eyelashes delicately at Hope. She completes the whole look with a small pout and becomes the most adorable person in the world in two seconds flat.

Hope is going to kill MG.

“I taught her the puppy dog eyes.” MG says needlessly, then directs his words to Josie. “Ask her for something. She’ll do it.”

She _will_.

“Hope, can you get me a soda?” More eyelash batting from Josie, more heart fluttering from Hope. “Please?”

“Sure.” Hope lifts herself out of the pool and walks quickly into the house, trying to avoid the sound of Josie’s delightful giggle.

The noise follows her into the kitchen, even as Hope tries to drown it out with the sound of the fridge’s humming. _Fuck._ She is so screwed. It’s so inappropriate of her to develop a crush on someone else, on Landon’s birthday of all days.

No. Hope won’t let this happen to her.

She squats and fishes a cold can of Pepsi from the fridge. Hope’s hand clasps along the damp beverage and she leans into the fridge more, welcoming the chilly temperature and willing it to rid her mind of its unseemly thoughts. It works and, by the time she shuts the door, she feels close to acting like herself again.

The problem comes when Hope tries to get a glass. For one thing, Hope can’t open the upper cabinet (she isn’t short - Landon’s cabinets are just unnecessarily high up), and for another, she hears someone laughing lightly behind her.

“Can you not reach?” Josie’s amused voice meets Hope’s ears.

“No. I’m fine.” Hope doesn’t turn around, too embarrassed to face Josie. She was fully ready to climb up on the counter before the other girl got here, but now her plan is a no-go.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Hope insists, though she’s currently straining to push farther up on her tippy toes.

Hope’s stubborn act gets cut short by a sudden warmth on her back. Josie presses up against her for a single, short second while she grabs the glass, and leaves Hope so breathless that she’s practically panting into the air.

“I didn’t mean to boss you around earlier.” Josie says and gently takes the can from Hope’s hand, moving to pour it herself. “I just thought it was funny how quickly you went to help. Like a knight in shining armor.”

“It’s a soda. I didn’t save you from a dragon.” She finally gets the courage to turn around.

“Still. Thank you.”

Josie’s smile is brighter than sunlight and just as blinding. It takes effort to look at, because it feels as if it’s burning through Hope’s skin and melting her bones. She hasn’t felt anything so intense over something so simple since- no, actually, Hope has _never_ felt this way in her entire life.

“You’re welcome.” Hope murmurs, dropping her head sheepishly.

She is so fucked.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the Temple of JP gc on Twitter, who manifested this chapter yesterday and inspired me to write it

By the time the sun sets, almost everyone is ready to get out of the pool.

They exit sluggishly, most of the girls tugging at their swimsuits uncomfortably while the boys collect any important belongings, before all of them head inside. Hope has her shirt on almost as soon as she exits the pool. It hadn’t been so cold when she first got in, but that had been hours ago, and now the air is chilly and unforgiving.

Kaleb carries the speaker into the living room, along with MG, and they set it down somewhere behind the couch, then proceed to turn on Landon’s television and XBox. Hope would normally complain about them playing a video game at the end of every party, but it isn’t _her_ birthday, and Landon seems happy to join them.

“I’m going to use the bathroom.” She announces, squeezing Landon’s shoulder as the other girls get situated around the boys.

Landon, unexpectedly, sits up with her. “Want me to come with you?”

“No.” Hope pauses, thinking that answer sounds a little too harsh. He’s just been exceptionally clingy today, his arms never straying from her waist while they swam. She smiles thinly. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”

Landon nods and settles back onto the couch, looking slightly embarrassed until Kaleb hands him a controller. They knock their shoulders in a way that is somehow very boy-ish.

“Hoping for a birthday BJ, Lan?” Kaleb asks, the music to whatever game they’re playing floating into the room.

Hope steps carefully over the girls on the floor, who mostly don’t seem too interested in playing. She kicks Penelope purposefully on her way out and uses all of her focus not to accidentally trip over Josie as she goes.

“I’m more focused on kicking your ass in Mario Kart…” Landon’s words begin to fade as she reaches the stairs.

It feels weird to have Kaleb in the house again. The bad blood between him and MG is mostly gone, but Hope hasn’t spoken to him much since he left the band. Hope saw no reason to contact him. Sure, they’d been friends, but Hope admittedly isn’t the best at socializing, especially one on one.

Actually, Hope isn’t good at socializing at all. There’s a reason she only has a handful of friends. Honestly, she is already feeling a tiny bit put-out by how many people she’d spoken to today.

Hope stands in the bathroom for far too long, staring at her own reflection. Her hair is still wet, two shades darker than usual, causing her eye color to seem more pronounced - the same startling blue as her father’s. She lowers them from the mirror, sighing heavily, her thoughts a million miles away from here.

Why can’t she shake this? Hope vows to make more of an effort when she returns downstairs. Maybe she’ll participate in Mario Kart or strike up a conversation with Lizzie or… someone.

Not Josie.

No, it seems Hope is unable to string a sentence together in front of Josie without stuttering like an idiot. She fell in the pool, earlier. Who even does that?

Hope takes one more second to gather herself, then leaves the bathroom. As soon as she swings open the door, someone swears loudly, followed by an answering thump. Hope peers around the wood and spots Josie on the floor, holding her forehead.

“Oh, shit.” Hope kneels by her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you coming.”

At seeing Josie’s grimace, Hope cups her jaw on instinct and inspects her face for any injuries. Her chest constricts oddly with concern and she fails to remove her hand when Josie’s expression finally smoothes out. Thankfully, there are no signs of bumps or bruises and Josie seems relatively unharmed.

“It’s fine. I got you pretty good, earlier.” Josie assures, though Hope isn’t so easily convinced.

“Are you sure?” She swipes her thumb over a pink spot on Josie’s forehead. It feels a bit tender. Oh no. “I could get you an ice pack or something.”

“It’s fine.”

“Really, because I could—“

“ _Hope_.”

Hope swallows, her rambling cut off abruptly. Hearing her name, spoken like that, spoken by _Josie_ , reduces her mind to mush.

Intellectual thoughts part ways with Hope in an instant, not leaving a trace of their presence. She stammers uselessly, unable to grab hold of a brain cell.

“Um.”

It’s only now that she notices how close she has gotten, only now that she realizes how her other hand has strayed to Josie’s bare stomach while the other strokes rather intimately over her face. Both spots tingle pleasantly where Hope touches them, soft and warm, yet still wet from the pool.

Right. The pool, meaning Josie is still in her bikini. Oh god, times two.

Hope recoils, worried she has made Josie uncomfortable. “Sorry. I don’t mean to touch you without your permission.”

If she were able to meet Josie’s eyes, maybe she would be able to see the blush on Josie’s cheeks that mirror her own.

“It’s okay. You can… touch me if you want to?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement, Josie’s features slowly twisting at the awkward sentence.

“Okay.” Hope clears her throat, skin flushing.

This is why she doesn’t talk to people outside of the band.

Hope stands and offers her hand to Josie, who allows Hope to help her to her feet. She pretends it doesn’t take effort to pull away this time, the sound of everyone (her boyfriend and soulmate included) talking downstairs knocking some sense into her.

Part of her knows she should leave, go sit on Landon’s lap and cheer him on while he plays Mario Kart, but—

“So, what are you doing upstairs?” Hope asks, tone casual, insides everything but.

“Landon said I could borrow a shirt from his room.” Josie explains and gestures left down the hall, as if pointing to Landon’s bedroom. His room is actually on the right.

Hope takes that as an invitation to show her where it is, saving the poor girl from getting lost or accidentally wandering into Landon’s mom’s room. She leads her down the hall and enters the bedroom as if it were her own, migrating to the dresser in search of a non-dorky top for Josie.

It takes a while. Landon has a lot of Star Wars and Lord of the Rings shirts.

Once Hope’s hands grip the fabric of a pale blue sweater, she freezes. Something coils at the base of her spine, stopping her from handing over the garment. An image of Josie in this shirt flashes through her mind and anger follows a second later. It builds, bitter and unexplained, in the back of her throat.

She digs through Landon’s shirts and doesn’t pause until she finds one of her own, leftover from an earlier visit.

Hope gives _that_ to Josie, unaware of why she suddenly feels so possessive. She had never cared about other people in Landon’s clothing before. It hadn’t been a problem when Penelope borrowed Landon’s hoodie last month or when MG stole his shorts for a whole week.

It almost seems as if the problem is Josie.

“Hope?” Josie’s voice reaches her ears, sounding as if this isn’t the first time she’s said it, and Hope hurriedly blinks out of her daze.

“Yeah?”

“Could you turn around?” Josie glances meaningfully down at her own body.

Hope blushes. Again. “Right, yeah. Sure.”

She is facing the wall in no time. Of course, Josie has to change. Had Hope just been staring at her this whole time? God. How much more useless could she get?

Quiet rustling comes from behind her. The sound of Josie undressing brings heat to Hope’s skin, though all she can see is Landon’s wall. She tries not to imagine the sight behind her, instead choosing to focus on one of Landon’s Marvel posters. This one has Thor, holding his hammer high up in the air, ready to strike it down on his faceless opponent.

That faceless opponent might just be Hope, with how her heart thunders against her chest.

Less than a minute passes and yet, later, Hope would guess that they stand there for ages. Time seems to stretch on and stop altogether, so she is unable to tell how long it is. All she knows is that her body reacts so strangely, that her throat clogs and her lungs grow desperate for oxygen, that her hands are trembling visibly by the time Josie calls out a short—

“Done.”

Hope turns around as soon as she’s able, glad to feel the air finally flow through her mouth. All tension seeps from her body in an instant, the sight of Josie in her clothing easing her.

“Is this yours?” Josie wonders aloud, peering down at the front of the hoodie, where Hope’s last name is printed in white. “Landon Mikaelson doesn’t sound quite right.”

She has the lingering thought that Josie is correct. Landon Mikaelson doesn’t sound quite right, but neither does Hope Kirby. Maybe they will hyphenate in the future or maybe Hope won’t change her name at all.

“Yeah, it is.” Hope nods.

It suddenly occurs to Hope that Josie doesn’t know her last name and yet Hope’s knees had been ready to buckle, seconds ago, at the thought of Josie topless.

They haven’t even known each other that long. Why is Hope so overwhelmed by a practical stranger?

“Hope Mikaelson.” Josie tries the full name on her tongue, mouth forming over every syllable with care, though her words come quietly. “I like it. It’s pretty.”

“Not as pretty as Josie Saltzman.” Hope finds herself saying, without thinking.

For a moment, she curses herself for speaking the words aloud, her humiliation coming back in full force. That moment passes once she sees Josie blush and dip her head shyly, her hands twisting in the bottom of the hoodie. She looks so cute this way. Hope might give up her whole wardrobe by the end of the summer.

Damn it.

Hope wasn’t supposed to do this. She tries to remember what she was taught in class, in elementary school, about soulmates. It’s normal for humans to have crushes on each other and not end up together. It means nothing, it’s just hormones.

That is what _this_ is. Hormones. It will pass, hopefully sometime soon, and Hope will be able to get through her day without referring to Josie as cute or adorable or breathtakingly pretty.

Yes, this will pass.

Eventually.

“It’s Josette, actually.” Josie corrects gently and stares at Hope, expecting _something_ from her.

“Josette Saltzman. That’s just as pretty. It sounds very proper.” Those must be the exact words Josie wanted to hear, because she smiles as Hope says them. “I was guessing Josephine.”

Josie wrinkles her nose, giggling. “No, that makes me sound ninety.”

Hope has no idea how Josie can claim to sound ninety while she giggles like a little schoolgirl, but she doesn’t argue.

It’s not a second later that Josie’s laughter ends abruptly, her eyes falling on a part of Hope’s body that kills the noise. Hope panics, searching her torso and legs for any sign of anything odd. She feels a tad self-conscious, clad in only her bikini, but with the way Josie’s eyes are pointed towards her she doesn’t think the swimsuit is the distraction.

“Shoot.” Josie says, remembering herself, gesturing vaguely to a spot that’s unclear to Hope. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

Hope finally looks down at her wrist, where the bandage she had been wearing is now mostly off. She is surprised it hadn’t completely come off in the pool, although it looks well on its way to dropping and revealing the full extent of her soulmark. Only half of it is exposed, the delicate details of the talisman dark against pale skin.

Despite Josie’s apology, she keeps on staring, transfixed.

In an act of bravery or plain stupidity, Hope peels the remainder of the bandage off. She feels some odd satisfaction at seeing Josie’s eyes widen minutely.

Hope rarely ever shows anyone, especially not girls she met this month, but something in her aches to hear Josie’s opinion on it.

(This feeling will pass, eventually, her mind reminds her wisely, but the thought lands on the deaf ears of her heart.)

“It’s beautiful.” Josie steps forward, her hand lifting an inch from her side, fingers twitching as if she might touch it. She seems to abandon the idea midway, instead clearing her throat. “Does Landon have it, too?”

“He—“

Someone comes barging into the room. Both girls fail to take a step back quickly enough and Penelope raises her eyebrows at how close they’ve gotten.

A smirk crawls onto Penelope’s face. Hope longs to melt into the ground and stay there.

“Hope.” Penelope says, sweetly. “If you’re going to make out with a girl, _at least_ do it downstairs and give Landon a show. It is his birthday, after all.”

Hope blushes furiously, no longer able to meet Josie’s eyes. “I’m not—“

“And can I go second, after Josie?” Penelope bats her eyelashes, seemingly innocently, at Hope.

In response, Hope picks up one of Landon’s pillows off the bed and throws it at her. Penelope dodges it, just barely, and laughs as she finds her footing again.

“You’re last in line.” Hope huffs.

Penelope simply grins. “But, to be clear, there _is_ a line and I _am_ in it?”

“No.”

Hope now has trouble looking directly at Josie, on account of the fact that she is currently burning with embarrassment, but she has no trouble shoving Penelope out into the hall. She hates how amused her friend seems to be, hates how she laughs as if Hope ever kissing Josie is the most ridiculous idea in the world.

It isn’t so ridiculous—

_It should be,_ Hope reminds herself, as all three of them descend the stairs. She is dating Landon. Her answer to Josie’s question up there should have been _yes, he is my soulmate,_ and it most likely would have been, had Penelope not interrupted.

Hope repeats these statements in her head until she feels properly assured and, when they finally return to the living room, she plants herself on top of Landon instead of simply sitting beside him.

Josie takes the spare spot, sinking her hands into the front pocket of Hope’s hoodie.

Landon smiles up at her. “Hey, you.”

“Hey.” Hope replies, Josie’s presence so very clear in her peripheral vision. She shifts until all she can see is the television - not Landon’s smile and certainly not Josie. “Are we really watching Lord of the Rings again?”

-

An hour later, it is abundantly clear that Landon will never tire of the movie.

Hope doesn’t feel the same. It’s not that she thinks the movie is bad - actually, she found it quite interesting the first time they watched it.

The thirtieth time, she wasn’t so entertained.

The fortieth time, Hope wanted to slam her head against a wall repeatedly until she was unconscious and couldn’t hear Landon diligently reciting the lines again.

Now, Hope is contemplating throwing herself at the television and using the shards of glass as a weapon against anyone who tries to press play. Since she is sitting in Landon’s lap, she can hear him repeating certain sentences dramatically into her ear.

Each whispered word grates on her ears, threatening to ruin her hearing completely, but when she tries to squirm sideways he squeaks quietly, so Hope promptly decides to stay still while she’s on his lap.

Why had she decided to sit here, anyways?

Hope glances at Josie, noticing that the other girl seems interested in the movie. She probably hasn’t seen it over forty times.

Lucky.

Josie is so focused that she is absentmindedly sucking her bottom lip, a small action that Hope assumes is a habit of hers. Hope must be looking for too long, because Josie’s head turns all of a sudden, their eyes catching.

The only light in the room comes from the TV, dim and faintly blue. That same light blue climbs across Josie’s face, in the darkness, along with a noticeable red.

Josie is blushing, and Hope might just be, too.

Why does she keep staring so much? Hope is turning into a bit of a creep. Josie must be so freaked out by her. Hell, Hope is freaked out by herself, lately.

She forces her eyes back to the screen.

“Mordor! I hope the others find a safer road.” Landon repeats into her ear, enthralled with the movie.

Hope sighs, accepting her very boring fate.

-

While everyone leaves, Hope and Landon stand by the door and say their goodbyes. Hope is staying overnight, so she leans against the doorway with a towel around her shoulders, and waves tiredly at all who stroll by her.

When the Saltzman twins pass her, Josie boldly pulls her into a hug.

Hope stumbles into the embrace, soon finding her bearings and her arms tight around Josie’s slim waist. She smells a bit like chlorine, but under that something sweet Hope unintentionally brands into her memory.

Vanilla, maybe.

“Goodbye, Hope Mikaelson.” Josie whispers, a teasing lilt firm in her voice.

She steps away and leaves Hope cold as she departs. Hope stares at Josie’s retreating back, watching her walk down the driveway with Lizzie.

“Goodbye, Josephine!” Hope calls back.

Hope hears Josie’s laughter from afar and smiles down at the welcome mat on Landon’s porch.

“That was weird.” Landon comments, as he shuts the door. “You’re usually not much of a hugger.”

-

They don’t have sex.

Hope tries to get them to, because she feels obligated since it’s his birthday, though Landon doesn’t pressure her. He never does.

In fact, that night Landon seems pretty shaky and awkward, enough that he stops Hope before they can get any further than kissing. He nudges her off, murmuring something about a stomach ache, and they end up watching the second Lord of the Rings movie instead.

Hope falls asleep next to him, distantly thinking that she still hasn’t seen his soulmark yet.

**. . .**

The next two times she sees Landon, he wears buttoned, long-sleeve flannels and jeans.

Hope doesn’t question it, even as she watches him sweat under the heat of the summer sun. She would say he’s acting weird, but Landon is often stammering and restless, so that wouldn’t exactly be true.

-

Hope gladly accepts the water bottle Penelope offers to her, eager to cool down her aching hands after a long two hours of drumming almost non-stop. She clasps her hands over the chilled plastic as she stands, sighing in relief, and maneuvers her way around MG’s keyboard to stand in the doorway.

The garage is overheated with three, sweaty, panting people inside of it and the door closed.

Hope strips off her thin tank top. It sticks to her as it goes, eager to point out how doused in sweat she is. She grimaces at the top as if it has personally offended her.

“Ooo.” Penelope pulls her guitar off of her shoulder and points excitedly at Hope. “Abs.”

“Perv.” Hope splashes some water at Penelope. Only a little. It’s too hot out to waste so much of it. “What was that bullshit with Josie at Landon’s party, by the way? I wasn’t going to kiss her.”

“Oh please, you looked like you were going to mount the poor girl.”

MG raises his eyebrows at this, but wisely says nothing, and retrieves a water bottle for himself in silence.

“I was not.” Hope protests, warmth rising to her face at the visual.

Penelope raises her hands in surrender. “Okay, whatever you say.”

Though she knows Penelope is joking, Hope can’t shake the feeling that some of her teasing is somewhat true. She had been so close to Josie that day. Just the thought of it has her body almost trembling again, every part of her seeming to vibrate except for her hands, which are painfully numb.

What was that cream Josie put on her hands when they met?

Shana?

Sana?

Hope isn’t sure. Maybe she should go over there and ask for some more. Josie lives right next door, after all.

She lifts up on her tippy toes, remembering how the garage doorway gives her the perfect view into Josie’s room. Hope tries not to be too creepy, only looking in for a second, before lowering her feet back to the ground in disappointment when she sees no one inside.

“Ladies,” MG drawls, tapping the side of his keyboard pointedly. “Are we going to play more or not?”

“Yes! Pussy Party is a go.” Penelope swings her guitar strap back over her shoulder.

Hope sits in front of her drums. “Stop calling it that. That’s not the name.”

“Well, we don’t have one, yet…”

-

“How about Los Badasses?” MG suggests over a plate of fries, an hour later. He digs them enthusiastically into a small bowl of ketchup and chews rather loudly.

“I’m still voting for Pussy Party.” Penelope chimes in, repeating what she has been for a solid five minutes.

Hope rolls her eyes. “No.”

“The Vamps?”

“That’s already a thing.”

“What about the Ring?” MG lightly knocks his foot into Hope’s under the table. “That would make Landon happy.”

“Landon isn’t in the band.” Hope shrugs and busies herself by drinking as much of her water as she can.

She cut out milkshakes.

Hope is beginning to think that these weird feelings have something to do with all of the milk and sugar she ingests on a weekly basis. She is hoping that a clean diet and some more exercise will fix all of this. Even if it doesn’t do anything, staying healthy isn’t the worst idea in the world.

“Super Squad?” MG tries again. This suggestion earns a second of contemplation from both girls.

“No.” Penelope responds finally. “But Dauqs Repus could work. Super Squad backwards. It kind of sounds like pussy, I’m satisfied.”

“Why are you obsessed with pussy?” Hope asks.

“Why aren’t you?” Penelope returns, without missing a beat, and steals the fry right out of Hope’s hand.

Hope blushes.

**. . .**

Two weeks later, Dauqs Repus is set to play its first official gig at Jed’s party.

After thoroughly searching the garage cabinets for a proper outfit to wear, Hope gives up. She is only able to find a couple of tank tops. While that is normally what she wears while drumming, she wants a nice jacket to go over it for when she is done playing and ready to mingle.

Well, Hope will never truly be ready to mingle, so it’s more like when she is inevitably dragged off stage by one of her friends and forced into the crowd.

Speaking of her friends…

**Dauqs Repus Group Chat**

Penelope, 8:43pm  
 _Mikaelson, get ur ass over here_

MG, 8:44pm  
 _Come help plz, she’s losing it_

Hope, 8:44pm  
 _Give me a sec_

All of Hope’s nice clothing is upstairs, in her room.

Fear builds like the tide in Hope’s gut, slowly rising, as she climbs each stair. She feels the harsh waves of it crash against her stomach violently when she rests her hand against the knob of her bedroom door.

Hope refuses to be bullied by her own cowardice and, most of all, the ghosts of her past.

(At least, that is what her old therapist made her repeat multiple times.)

In truth, it takes Hope much too long to finally open the door, and when she does it happens with closed eyes and bated breath. She moves through the room blindly, able to find her closet by memory, not bumping into a single thing.

Once Hope is able, she snags her leather jacket from off one of the hangers and puts it on.

On her way out, Hope catches a glimpse of a framed picture in her peripheral vision. She sees a flash of her family - her father and mother, posing nearby an oak tree. Hope exits the room but the image is already bleeding into her eyes, so when she gets downstairs she bumps right into Rebekah.

“Are you going to that party?” Rebekah asks, not saying a word about the jacket or Hope’s sudden lack of tact. Bless her.

Hope nods.

“No drugs.” Rebekah tells her sternly, as Hope continues to nod in agreement. “And if you sleep anywhere else I need to know. Also, if you come home drunk and puke on the cat again, then you’re grounded.”

“I won’t.” Hope promises.

That was an accident. She had been very, very drunk and Yoda was in the way. That cat is _always_ in the way.

Hope just wants a dog.

The universe seems against it.

The air outside is still warm, borderline humid. For a split second, Hope considers leaving her jacket at home, but she had already gone through too much to get it. Besides, as soon as she steps off the porch, she notices a familiar figure in a skirt and finds it hard to walk properly.

“Josie?”

Josie pauses, an expression of slight confusion passing fleetingly over her face, before she seems to take note of Hope’s presence.

“Hope Mikaelson.” Josie grins, her tongue and mouth making Hope’s full name ring wonderfully. “What are you doing out so late?”

“I’m going to a party, since it’s barely nine. Maybe you _are_ an old woman, Josephine.” Hope teases and trails down the rest of the driveway hurriedly, stopping a foot or two in front of Josie.

“I’m younger than you.” She reminds her, then goes onto draw her bottom lip between her teeth. Yes, definitely a habit. “Jed’s party?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to it, too. Do you want to walk with me?” Josie gestures farther down the sidewalk.

“Of course. It’s polite to help old ladies across the street.”

Josie knocks her shoulder against Hope’s own as they fall into step together. Hope pretends not to freeze and burn, all at the same time - insides jostled, heart reeling.

The brief contact is just that: brief.

Later, Hope would guess that it goes on for hours. Time seems to stop working altogether around Josie.

Years could have passed by the time Hope says anything, though she prays it hasn’t been so long. She knows verbal conversations aren’t her fortay, but Hope could at least pull it together enough to indulge in a little small talk.

“Is Lizzie going?” Hope asks, glancing not far behind them, at the Saltzman house.

Josie shakes her head. “Lizzie left earlier with this guy, Sebastian.”

Hope bristles at the news, for some reason filled with sudden contempt for the blonde twin. How dare she ditch Josie for Sebastian? It may be the suburbs, but it’s still dark out, and Josie is special and Hope is oddly furious.

“She let you walk by yourself?” Hope questions, thinly veiled anger lacing into her tone without her permission.

“Why does no one think I can take care of myself?” Josie asks in return. She seems angry herself, though not with Hope. “I’m not helpless.”

Realizing she may have touched upon a sore spot, Hope rushes to backtrack. She tries to think of something else to say, to break this bit of tension, to clear not only the air between them but the heavy weight in her chest.

“Of course you’re not.” Hope assures. God. She is so bad at making conversation. Maybe a joke would loosen Josie up? Hope pretends to be on her way to leaving, taking one large step ahead. “Since you don’t need my protection, I’ll just—“

“No.” Josie protests immediately, her fingers unexpectedly gripping Hope’s wrist to drag her back.

Hope goes willingly, unable to leave her. Unable to do much of anything, actually. Her wrist burns, the sensitive bundle of nerves throbbing so hard that her bones nearly shake. Hope tries to still herself, but her body apparently is on a streak of recklessness.

She stares down, rather obviously, at where Josie is touching her mark through the bandage.

What the fuck?

Why is every emotion of Hope’s suddenly so overwhelming?

A simple touch is seemingly all it takes to unravel her these days.

Josie releases her, holding her briefly again, but time is still just as traitorous as it is torturous, and Hope will feel Josie’s touch on her skin for an eternity.

The conversation becomes less of a conversation and more of a staring match for a few seconds, but soon Hope clears her throat.

“Did you say Sebastian? As in, Sebastian Hayes?” Hope questions and Josie bobs her head, nodding. “I know him. Sort of. I met him at a lacrosse game, he goes to that snotty private school up the hill.”

“Is he a nice guy?” Josie asks, most likely for her sister, who is off with him right now.

Hope tries to think back to that one time on the field. She hadn’t paid much attention to him or the game, too busy watching MG wrestle Kaleb over a hot dog, but she remembers that he had apologized for bumping into her and introduced himself quite politely, using his full name.

He seemed like a gentleman.

That is the only opinion Hope has on the boy. He had sort of reminded her of her uncle, Elijah, which was usually a good sign.

“Yes.” Hope decides finally, and silently prays that he won’t end up cheating on Lizzie or doing something equally bad. That would make her look like a liar.

They walk another block in comfortable silence. Comfortable, in the sense that Hope doesn’t feel the need to say anything. Not comfortable, in the sense that Hope’s shoulders fail to ease out of their tense position. She feels their hands brush as they walk, so very lightly but also so very close.

Close enough, that Hope could reach out and hold Josie’s hand if she wants to. She thinks she wants to.

She won’t.

“What about you?” Hope implores, smiling faintly when she sees Josie blink, as if pulled out of her own trance. “Any boyfriends or… girlfriends?”

“No. I had a girlfriend back home, but we broke up before I moved.” The way Josie says it isn’t sad, more dismissive.

_Josie Saltzman likes girls, Josie Saltzman likes girls, Josie Saltzman likes girls—_

Hope clamps down on her smile, which had gradually been growing larger.

“It must be nice to have someone already set out for you.” Josie, the girl-liker, continues. “You know, with Landon.”

Hope eyes the sidewalk. “Not really.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… like you, for example.” Hope gestures to her, enjoying the way Josie pinks slightly. “You could go to this party tonight and find your soulmate on the dance floor. You’d feel excited and maybe a little overwhelmed, but it would be a rush. I won’t feel a thing tonight. I guess all of the emotion has died out over the years.”

Josie watches her carefully, analyzing, not saying a word aloud but looking thoughtful. Hope’s feet halt in the middle of walking, causing her to almost trip like some incapable fucking idiot.

“But you love him?” Josie inquires, in a whisper, lip trapped between her teeth. Habit.

And Hope nods, with a clogged throat and a heavy heart.

Habit.

“I do.”

-

When they get there, Landon is waiting, as he usually is, hands stuffed in his jeans. Someone must have told him that she was on her way. He raises his hand, sleeve long enough to cover his palm, and waves at the both of them.

“Hey.” Landon extends his greeting to Josie, too, but leans over to kiss only Hope.

She dodges his mouth, tugging at the bottom of his flannel. It feels damp against her fingers, either with sweat or a spilled drink.

“Aren’t you hot?” Hope asks.

“Actually, I’m a little cold.” Landon replies and laces their fingers together, guiding her hand away from his stomach. Hmm. Odd. “Come on, I’d be honored to get you ladies some beers.”

Two minutes later, the ladies have beers and so does Landon. They stand around a keg together, an unlikely trio, and Landon asks Josie about what she thought of the movie a few weeks ago until three other guys come over to join them.

One of them is Jed, and he doesn’t hesitate to set his meaty palm on Landon, effectively silencing him.

“I can’t believe you get two pretty girls to talk to you and all you do is go on about Gaylords of the Rings.” Jed chuckles, shaking Landon’s arm a bit. “I’m surprised Mikaelson hasn’t left you.”

“Screw you.” Landon responds, blunt and much too sharply for someone who has only had half of a drink.

Hope calms him by placing a hand on his waist.

If he keeps on talking to Jed like that, then Landon is well on his way to an ass-kicking. It wouldn’t be pretty to see Landon cry in front of a bunch of people, especially their classmates.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Hope questions, not rudely, just knowing the mention of Kaleb seems to soften Jed some.

“Kaleb is getting drinks.” Thankfully, it has the desired effect, and Jed’s voice is gentler. “I came over here to introduce Raf. He needs to get laid.”

Jed smacks the chest of the muscled, tall boy beside him. Raf grimaces at the same time the third guy does. The third boy is on the chubby side and wearing a bright sweater that doesn’t really suit him well. He looks sort of out of place, next to Jed and Raf’s big personalities.

“Stop introducing me to girls that way.” Raf mutters, annoyed. He offers his hand to Josie first. “Hi. I’m Rafael.”

“Josie.” She returns, smiling.

Was that… a giggle?

Hope looks between them, her gaze scalding, a frown twitching at her lips. Up until now, Hope had only heard Josie giggle that sweetly for her. She somehow got it into her head that it was special, meant for her and only her.

How stupid is she?

“I’m Wade.” Sweater-boy introduces, awkwardly. Hope imagines he doesn’t know how to say his own name smoothly. “I actually love Lord of the Rings.”

Landon’s face lights up. “Really? Hope hates it.”

“Hate is a strong word…”

The boys seem to have forgotten her, chattering excitedly amongst themselves in an instant. Hope blinks, feeling slightly abandoned and betrayed.

Great.

Her boyfriend has been stolen by a guy in an ugly sweater.

“I have a show to play, anyways.” Hope says, hoping she can at least go out on her own terms.

“You’re playing tonight?” Josie’s head whirls in her direction.

Rafael’s face contorts, as if he had just been cut off in the middle of a sentence (or, more accurately, in the middle of a cheesy pick-up line).

“Yeah.” Hope replies, her eyes darting smugly to Rafael. “You want to come watch?”

-

“Hey, Mikaelson.” Penelope points a drumstick threateningly at her, as soon as Hope clambers up on stage. “You fucking left us to carry your drum kit by ourselves. What the hell?”

“I was with Josie.” Hope shrugs and snatches the stick back from Penelope.

She inspects it for any sign of damages, intent on shoving it violently down Penelope’s throat if she comes across a scratch. These are the most precious things in the world to her, aside from the drum kit itself.

Penelope scoffs in disbelief. “Did you at least get some? Because I—“

“Can you just shut up and play for once?”

For once, Penelope listens. For once, they set up their gear in silence, while the crowd waits impatiently for the generic pop music to stop tumbling out of the speakers.

MG seems a little anxious, since he’s singing as well as playing tonight, and isn’t their official singer. Hope pats his shoulder reassuringly, before she sits in her seat behind the drums and spins her sticks while she waits for their cue.

Hope searches the crowd and instantly spots Josie, holding a red solo cup and staring back at her just as intensely.

For once, Hope is nervous to play.

-

They play for two hours straight. The crowd cheers after every song, so loudly that it even overshadows the music at some points. Josie’s eyes are on Hope all night, never straying, even as she dances.

Brown.

Electric.

Beautiful.

Hope has shed her jacket by the time they finish and is blowing loud puffs of air into the wind when MG abandons his keyboard to scoop her into a hug. She pants as she pats his back, his heartbeat thrumming just as hard as hers.

“That was awesome.” MG shakes her, excited.

“Okay, don’t break the drummer.” Hope laughs, though she is kind of serious. She really isn’t a hugger. “But yes, that was awesome.”

MG and Penelope follow her off stage while Kaleb starts to play another song, using the speaker that is hooked up to his laptop. He blasts some songs Hope hasn’t heard since he left the band and, as it rings in her ears, nostalgia does, too.

She swears that she sees Kym…

“MG!” The girl calls out. Yep, that is definitely Kym, and MG is definitely gaping at her like an idiot.

MG seems awfully startled. “Oh… hey.”

“Awkward.” Penelope drawls, linking arms with Hope to drag her away from the upcoming disaster.

She would thank Penelope, but her friend has been a bit of an ass lately, so Hope stays quietly spiteful.

Hope still allows Penelope to lead her elsewhere. When they come across a beer pong table, Hope isn’t surprised, because she knows it’s Penelope’s favorite party game. They begin to set up the cups together, on opposite sides of the table.

“I’m going to kick your ass.” Penelope tips a cup towards her before setting it down.

“Bold words for someone who lost last time.”

Hope laughs at Penelope’s answering scowl. Once they are both done they search the group gathering around them for two poor souls to force into the match.

“Wade!” Penelope yells and drags the protesting boy into the circle. “Come here.”

Wade seems rather uncomfortable, yet at the same time unable to protest. That isn’t Hope’s problem. She can only hope he hasn’t played before, as that will up her chances of winning.

Hope darts her head around, in search of her own partner.

“Hope Mikaelson.” Josie appears beside her in no time, whispering dramatically, a scandalized look on her face. “You never told me that _you’re_ the best drummer in the world.”

“I never knew.” Hope responds, uncertain but amused by Josie’s drunk actions. As Josie glances at the table, her eyes bulge and widen to the size of plates.

“Ooo, are we playing beer pong?”

So, it seems fate has decided for her.

-

The ping-pong ball flies from Josie’s hand and lands in Penelope’s final cup skillfully. Penelope frowns as she is forced to drink the last of her beer, while Wade wobbles beside her, clearly intoxicated.

“Yay!” Josie squeals and jumps into Hope’s arms almost immediately after. “We won.”

Josie is blissfully warm against her, the heat of her body seeping through Hope’s clothes to greet her skin. Hope exhales before she can stop herself, the noise passing through her mouth too loudly.

If asked, Hope would call it a sigh. Others might say it’s closer to a moan.

Either way, Hope’s cheeks flame, partially due to Josie’s proximity, but also because of that damn noise. It mortifies her, especially since Josie must hear it, and leans back an inch to tilt her head inquisitively.

A hint of concern crosses Josie’s face.

“Sorry.” Josie’s cheeks turn a faint red, and Hope is unsure of why she is the one blushing. All she knows is Josie seems on the verge of pulling away, which is the last thing Hope wants. “Is all of the hugging making you uncomfortable?”

Not at all.

“No. You can… touch me if you want to.” Hope murmurs, recalling the moment from earlier.

Her thumbs slip over Josie’s back momentarily, across the bare skin exposed by Josie’s cropped sweater. Hope may be imagining it, but she thinks that she sees Josie, the girl-liker, shiver as Hope’s hand brushes her spine.

“Oh? I can?” Josie smirks.

It isn’t the first time Hope thinks Josie is flirting with her.

Something swells in her abdomen, branding the skin, gathering there like a collection of hot coals.

“Well.” Penelope claps her hands together and Hope jumps. She had forgotten that the other girl was there, along with the rest of the party. “I think it’s a good time to play Spin the Bottle.”

That is Penelope’s second favorite party game.

-

Hope watches as a small circle forms in Jed’s basement and Penelope searches around for an empty bottle. It doesn’t take too long for her to pick a relatively clean one out and set it down in the middle of everyone.

“Do you want to play?” Hope asks, saddling up to Landon on the sidelines.

“If that’s okay with you.” Landon replies earnestly, his voice timid in that submissive way that reminds Hope just how firmly he stays under her thumb. “Maybe we both play? So it’s fair?”

None of the other couples seem to be playing, since the fun from the game comes from kissing other people, but Hope and Landon are different. They are the only ones in here who have been dating for years and therefore haven’t done much outside of with each other. It may be unconventional, but it’s nice to have a little fun sometimes.

“Sure.” Hope allows him to hold her hand, though she doesn’t think that screams _I’m ready to kiss other people_.

Penelope spins first, since it was her idea, and it lands on Rafael. They share a weirdly intense kiss, both of them seventeen and lacking a mate, their lips meeting in the unhurried way only two people who aren’t strapped down to someone else could.

Hope glances at Landon.

When was the last time they kissed properly? She can’t remember. She knows that she dodged him outside and acted similarly on their date a couple days ago, but now that she thinks about it she can’t remember if he really made an effort to kiss her at all.

Shouldn’t they kiss?

They’re a couple, aren’t they?

Hope decides not to, since those aren’t the rules of the game, and Landon is staring at the moving bottle diligently. His eyes never stray from it as it spins, even though it isn’t his turn. It is no longer Rafael’s turn, either - it’s Wade’s.

It spins, spins, spins.

Landon leans forward marginally, pupils blown wide, mouth set on his drink.

It lands on Jed.

Jed glances Kaleb’s way for confirmation and Kaleb shrugs in response.

“Go ahead, I’m not the jealous type.” He seems more amused than anything over Jed and Wade’s strange sputtering.

The awkwardness continues from there. Jed and Wade’s lips meet with much less passion than Penelope and Rafael’s, molding together for one short, uncomfortable second. It reminds Hope that being soulmate-less isn’t all flowers and rainbows, it can actually be a bit humiliating at times.

Wade leans back, right once he is done with the kiss, and the collar of his sweater slips enough to reveal the upper-half of a pair of intricate, pretty wings.

“Dude, happy belated birthday!” MG points out cheerfully and nods towards his mark, most likely missing the way Wade cringes at MG’s attempt to be friendly.

Hope laughs a little, shifting to lean into Landon, but ends up flailing and almost hitting the floor. She struggles to find her bearings and find him, seeing that he is already dashing halfway up the stairs without her.

What the hell?

Hope gets up and follows him, nearly missing the way Josie’s eyes follow _her_.

She stumbles upon him outside. Landon is out in the backyard, bent over Jed’s family garden. He heaves loudly, not noticing her presence, the noises racking through his body and the air. It seems as if he is near vomiting everywhere, the quiet sobs causing his body to tremble violently.

“Are you okay?” Hope sets a soothing hand on his back, genuinely concerned.

It almost looks as if Landon is near death.

“I’m fine. I probably just drank too much.” He pants out, on his knees not a second later, pretty much destroying part of Jed’s garden.

Shit.

Hope watches him, uncertain. “Is everything okay with _us_? We haven’t really done anything in weeks.”

“Why are you so obsessed with sex?” Landon snaps, on his feet again in an instant.

She has no idea where that came from, but it rubs her entirely the wrong way. Hope crosses her arms over her chest, all of the frustration and anger from the last few weeks bubbling up to the surface.

“I’m not obsessed.” Hope defends. He flinches at her tone, but he started this out of nowhere, so she’ll be damned if he doesn’t hear all of it. “You’re not even good at it.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” She stresses, her entire body prickling with unexpected annoyance. “Not everyone likes the missionary position with deep eye contact all of the time, Landon!”

Landon sputters at her uselessly, embarrassment showing, blatant and visible, on his face.

Whatever. Screw this. Hope is done playing, she doesn’t have to be here anymore.

He continues to stammer as she pushes past him, already fed-up by this conversation and realizing that several people have gathered by the back door to watch them.

People really need to find a better hobby.

Hope doesn’t have to shove them as she passes by, they all part for her. Everyone is either afraid of her or laughing at what she yelled at Landon out there (she really hadn’t meant to say it so loudly in front of so many people), except for Wade, who just seems confused.

“What's wrong with missionary?” He asks and Jed shakes his head, patting his back.

Hope ignores them, instead choosing to storm off and out of the house. Her footsteps land heavily on the concrete, creating a low thudding noise, but they are soon joined by someone else’s. She pauses, sucking in a quick breath to calm herself down.

She expects to see Landon fumbling out an apology behind her, but—

“Hope?” Josie calls her name softly, approaching just as hesitantly. “Could I walk you home?”

“I’m not really sure I’d be the best company.” She responds, which is the mild version of saying that she is incredibly and unexplainably pissed off.

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” Josie assures her, still approaching. “It’s just really dark and you’re kind of, um, small. I want to make sure you get home okay.”

Hope swallows, air lodging in her throat as thick as a boulder at the genuine concern and care in Josie’s voice.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No worries, this is the last chapter that will have so much Landon in it


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait

They walk home in silence.

Hope appreciates Josie’s ability to stay quiet immensely. Most people would try to strike up a conversation halfway through or bring attention to the fact that Hope screamed about sex in front of a lot of her classmates a few minutes ago, but Josie doesn’t. Josie doesn’t do much of anything, except walk and occasionally glance at Hope.

“Thank you.” Hope says, at last. A street light flickers above them, their houses and faces bathed in dim orange. “For offering to walk me home. It was really nice of you.”

“It’s no big deal. I would’ve been worried if I let you walk off alone after…” Josie tucks a brown strand of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks turn a rosy red color. “I just would’ve been worried.”

The admission must embarrass Josie somewhat, because she dips her head a moment later. She looks a little shy. Hope only notices this because of how intently she is watching Josie, her eyes never straying from the other girl’s face while Josie continues to glance up at her.

The words echo in Hope’s head, rendering her unable to speak.

Josie would’ve worried about her?

The thought of Josie thinking about her at all drives her close to madness. She always forgets that other people could be aware of her while she is aware of them. It’s a simple detail of life and yet Hope can’t seem to wrap her head around it.

“Worried? You don’t know me.” Hope points out, not rudely, just as an observation. She sounds more curious than anything.

“I know.” Josie lifts her shoulders, shrugging. “But I feel like I should.”

Hope understands that more than anything. She has felt off-balance since they met, almost needy with her desperation to be close to Josie. She wonders if what she is feeling is the same thing that Josie is, if their emotions are matched in intensity or if Hope is obsessive and Josie just wants an acquaintance.

The only thing keeping Hope from asking is her pride. She can’t figure out a way to ask without admitting how nervous and out of control Josie makes her feel.

So, instead of saying anything, Hope stays silent.

It’s Josie who speaks first. “Do you want to, maybe, come inside? I know you’re probably not feeling great right now, but I’m really good at cheering people up, so...“

“Sure.” Hope nods readily, trying not to sound too eager.

It’s been years since Hope hanged out with a girl other than Penelope. She is used to swapping insults and playing music loudly, occasionally complaining about their classmates. Hope knows that most girls do other things, but she can’t guess if Josie plans to get them to braid each other’s hair or do something else entirely.

Her mind is spinning with the possibilities, but she follows behind Josie without question.

Once Josie leads them into her house, Hope notices that the Saltzmans still haven’t fully moved in yet. Boxes are strewn across the living room, some of them open but most of them shut tight and held together by packaging tape. A few of them catch Hope’s eye, mainly the ones that have Josie’s name on them.

Neither of them say a word until they reach Josie’s room. While Josie flips on a light and sits on the edge of her bed, Hope awkwardly lingers in the doorway.

“You can come in, you know.” Josie reminds her. It’s impossible to miss the teasing glint in her eye.

“Right. Sorry.” Hope murmurs, silently cursing herself for being so weird and apologizing to her for the hundredth time.

Josie raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t comment on her strange behavior. “Come sit. We can watch a movie or something.”

Hope does as she’s told, suddenly filled by relief. She can handle a movie. Technically, they have already watched one together before, so Hope thinks she can get through another without messing up.

The great thing about movies is that no one has to speak except for the actors.

This will be great. Hope can sit here and forget everything about the party, including her outburst with Landon. She won’t think about him for the rest of the night. She’ll try not to think too hard about Josie either, about how nice it had felt to hug her earlier, how it had almost seemed that Josie was flirting with her and—

“I’m just going to change first.” Josie says and Hope blinks, not sure how she failed to realize that Josie already got up off the bed.

“Okay, I’ll just…” She uses her hand to make a sweeping motion and faces the wall.

It goes the same as before. Hope breathless and pointed away, Josie changing into her pajamas obscenely loudly. At least, it sounds obscene to Hope, others may hear the faint noises of fabric rustling and nothing more.

Everything about Josie is amplified for Hope, every noise, smell, and sight overwhelming.

While Josie changes, Hope focuses on the boxes around the room. Josie’s bedroom is pretty much fully decorated by now, but there are still about four boxes left untouched.

“Josie’s stuffed animal collection?” Hope reads aloud, amused.

“Don’t tease.” Josie must be finished, because she sits beside Hope once again. “They’re cute.”

“You’re—“ Hope pauses, mid-response.

Are those… panda pajamas?

Hope looks over Josie quickly, trying her best not to make it seem as if she is leering. Her heart thuds more forcefully than usual, not out of pain or excitement but out of pure affection for this girl in her pink, panda pajamas.

“I’m?” Josie implores, her eyes matching Bambi’s with their wide innocence.

The edges of Hope’s ears pinken.

“You’re cute, that’s all.” She shrugs, embarrassed by her own admission but unable to phrase it in any other way. Hope isn’t sure if comparing Josie to a young deer would be appropriate, but calling her cute doesn’t seem entirely appropriate either.

Christ. Hope has a boyfriend, and yet the warmth spreads throughout her body instantaneously, as if teasing her, as if mockingly telling her that she won’t be able to escape it.

(But eventually, this feeling will pass. Eventually, eventually, eventually.)

“I’m cute?” Josie asks through a giggle, tilting her head. Adorable.

“Yeah.”

“You’re the cute one.” Josie insists and points a finger at Hope. It’s the first time Hope wonders if Josie is still a little tipsy. “You’re like, what, five feet tall?”

“Hey! You’re three inches off.” She protests in mock outrage.

Josie smirks. “Oh, so you’re four foot nine, then?”

Hope gasps dramatically, not offended in the slightest, more delighted by this interaction. She can’t miss how Josie lights up while they speak, her smile widening to the brightest point Hope has ever seen it at. It’s almost blinding, the white of Josie’s teeth and the sound of her laughter just as endearing as the rest of her.

She swears that Josie’s giggle could wash away the world outside, that it could end all of the cold.

Although this will pass eventually, for now it settles in Hope’s chest and blooms like a flower, the petals showing gold.

“Okay. Serious question.” Josie sobers up all of a sudden, her lips twitching down to kill her smile. She stares at Hope intensely and Hope does the same, sort of worried Josie is going to ask something extremely personal. “Do you want to watch the Little Mermaid or the Lion King?”

Hope chuckles, having not expected that but happy with being pleasantly surprised. “Honestly, anything but Lord of the Rings.”

-

Soon, they have Josie’s laptop situated between them and are both covered by a large blanket.

All of the lights in the room are off, so the only thing allowing them to see is the faint light that shines from the screen while the Lion King plays. The animated lions cute roars and extravagant musical numbers are a welcome change from Landon always forcing Hope to watch an army of orcs battle, yet Hope still finds it difficult to keep her eyes from straying off to the left.

Josie must like this movie a lot, if the way she occasionally shuts her eyes and mouths along to the songs is anything to go by. Several times, Hope catches her nodding her head along to the beat or tilting forward slightly, brown eyes wide and excited like a child’s. One might see Josie’s face and guess that she has just won the lottery, judging by how happy she looks over a kid’s movie.

Hope certainly feels as if she has won something. She must be lucky to stumble upon a person like this, someone who not only tries to cheer others up but goes out of her way to do it.

Ever so slowly, a smile grows across Josie’s lips, the edges of her lips tilting up. She turns to face Hope unexpectedly, the tips of their noses almost brushing from the action. The one thing that keeps them apart is Hope herself, who can’t help but recoil at being caught.

If she had tried to stay still, then maybe they would be—

“You’re not watching the movie.” Josie points out, not nearly as flustered as Hope. She seems to be more amused than anything.

“I got distracted.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Josie asks and Hope shakes her head quickly.

Why would she want to talk about the fact that she was staring creepily at Josie for the last few minutes?

Josie keeps on looking at her, not seeming disturbed in the slightest. It suddenly occurs to Hope that Josie was probably asking about her fight with Landon instead of her wandering eyes. She releases a sigh of relief, though her answer doesn’t change one bit.

Hope doesn’t want to talk about Landon, even if part of her is sure that he will most likely be calling her tomorrow morning to apologize and reconcile. That’s how every argument they have ends, with Landon on her doorstep, tail between his legs, a regretful frown splitting his mouth.

“You know, I always cuddle with Lizzie whenever I’m sad… or with Mr. Snuffles.” Josie tacks that last part on as an afterthought, a hint of shyness creeping into her tone but her eyes lighting up just the same.

Hope grins, deciding this must be part of Josie’s plan to cheer her up. “Mr. Snuffles?”

“Yeah.” Josie nods excitedly. “My stuffed bear. You would like him, he’s around your height.”

Instead of giving in to Josie’s childish short jokes, Hope grabs one of the pillows beside her and smacks Josie with it. Josie gasps, abruptly cutting off her stream of giggles, and picks up a pillow of her own.

They attack each other like a couple of drunk school girls. It’s a mess of limbs and laughter, neither of them hitting very hard while they both mostly focus on trying not to fall off of the bed. Hope lands her blows on odd places of Josie’s body, feather-light against Josie’s collarbone or the underside of her neck. It’s all just to see the brunette squirm, to see her nose scrunch up and her eyes squint into adorable slits.

One particularly strong swipe of the pillow nearly sends Josie to the floor, panic crossing over her face for a split second before Hope gets the sudden urge to _protect_ and yanks Josie back into her. Hope’s hand fists the front of Josie’s pajama top, one fast tug forcing Josie to go propelling forwards instead of backwards.

(There may be a moment there where Hope’s hand accidentally grazes Josie’s bare skin, but it’s so brief that she can’t dwell on it).

They collide somewhat roughly, a bump of hard foreheads, quiet swears, and awkward rearranging of their bodies. When Josie lands on top of Hope, their legs slot together perfectly, but their torsos are all mismatched, making it so that Josie’s chin bumps against Hope’s throat.

“Careful.” Hope reminds her, still teasing, but shocked by her own actions. Why had she done that? It’s not like Josie would have suffered any serious injuries if she were to fall.

Hope is just being weird. She needs to stop being weird or else Josie probably won’t want to hang out with her anymore, and that—

That _can’t_ happen.

“You were saying something about cuddles?” She prompts, attempting to move past the whole interaction.

Josie finally lifts herself up to loom above Hope, an intrigued spark in her eye. The spark does not falter as Josie’s gaze traces Hope’s face, as Hope begins to realize that her fingers are curling into the soft sheets below her.

She’s shaking.

Just a little. Just a tiny tremble that aches and tugs, right beneath her skin. Hope barely pays attention to it at this point, already familiar with the way Josie makes her feel, despite not knowing her for very long.

“You want to cuddle with me?” Josie tilts her head, inquisitive.

“Uh.” No. Technically, that’s not what Hope had been suggesting at all.

Is that even allowed?

Is that a thing people actually do - cuddle? She is used to sleeping soundlessly beside Landon, alone with her excessive body heat (his words, not her‘s).

“Sure.” Hope agrees, after a long minute arguing internally and falling into Josie’s warm, hopeful expression. “How do we...“

Hope doesn’t expect Josie to slump against her the way she does. It seems too simple. All it takes is some adjusting, mostly on Josie’s part, and soon Hope is using Josie as if she were a blanket. She lays there for a while, not moving, not sure how to proceed without a _Cuddling For Dummies_ book, stiff and, honestly, a little nervous.

“This okay?” Josie whispers, softly enough that Hope wouldn't hear it if Josie weren’t draped over her. “We could spoon, if you want to.”

The idea flashes through Hope’s head, thoughts of having Josie’s backside pressed right against her front all night making her blush. She reverses the positions in her mind, figuring out that that option doesn’t work much better.

Josie holding her waist all night, warm breath ghosting along Hope’s neck? Poor Hope would never get a blink of sleep.

“No, this is good.” Hope reassures her. She tentatively lifts her arms from where they had been laying uselessly on the bed and wraps them around Josie, who sighs happily at the close contact. “Just stay here, okay?”

“Okay.”

**. . .**

Apparently, Josie snores in her sleep.

Of course, Josie doesn’t snore like a normal person would. It’s not loud or obnoxious, or even close to irritating. The tiny noises slip out of her at a constant, slow pace, quiet grumbles and cute sounds that could be described as purrs.

Hope wakes up to the snores and the slightly blurry image of Josie’s ceiling, although it barely takes her a second to drop her gaze to Josie.

Josie may be taller than your average giant, but now she has curled up into a ball on top of Hope. She looks so small, her features and body pinched together in a way that is borderline concerning. Hope can’t help but smooth a hand along Josie’s spine (the skin of her back is bare, exposed by the pajama top that must have ridden up sometime in the night) comfortingly, a bit worried.

It seems as if Josie is having a nightmare.

Hope’s heart swells and sits uncomfortably in her chest, too heavy to be reasonable. She brushes a gentle palm along Josie’s lower back, the indescribable need to protect bubbling up inside of her again.

If Hope could dive into dreams, she would enter Josie’s just to fight off the monsters. Or people. Whatever plagues Josie’s sleep.

Hope digs her fingers in with a bit more purpose, though not a lot of force, and massages the few spots she can reach without lifting Josie’s top like a creep. Everything about the action is innocent, loving. It’s far too intimate for near-strangers, especially when Hope has a general rule about not initiating physical contact with people she barely knows.

Normally, it makes her uncomfortable. Normally, she’d shy away from exactly what Josie is doing to her now - burying her head into the crook of Hope’s neck, unconsciously pulling her closer. Normally, Hope would want to run.

But she doesn’t.

She stays firmly planted in that position, trapped and unable to move but not panicking over it.

Hope watches Josie’s features smooth out, her eyes shifting beneath the closed lids. Hope isn’t sure if Josie stopped snoring or if her heartbeat has grown loud enough to block it out.

“Jo?”

She wonders if Josie can hear the rough lilt in her voice, if it’s obvious how hard her heart is pounding. Hopefully not. Hopefully this stays secret. Strangely Hope doesn’t want the new feeling to disappear altogether, but she wants to keep it private.

When this memory passes, maybe she’ll hide it beneath her bones. Somewhere no one else can reach.

This moment is _hers_.

Josie is—

“Hope?” Josie whispers, voice thick from sleep and eyes clouded. She blinks, watching Hope from under her pretty, long lashes. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Hope finds the single word is hard to force out of her mouth while Josie is so close to her.

Josie yawns and palms her face to rid herself of any lingering exhaustion. She smiles softly once she composes herself, a dash of color spreading along her cheeks when she seems to realize the position they’re still in. Josie maneuvers off of Hope, somehow managing not to make it weird and only a little bit awkward.

Hope lays frozen on the bed. Literally. Hope is so cold that she would guess her skin has turned to ice. The sudden lack of Josie’s body heat is jarring, almost feeling like a betrayal.

Betrayal.

Hope swallows hard and sits up to search for her phone. It must have fallen out of her pocket while they were wrestling, some time last night, but now Hope needs to text Landon. She isn’t sure how he would feel about her sleeping in another person’s bed. She isn’t sure how she feels about it herself, even if the whole night was purely platonic fun.

It was all innocent. A lot of straight girls are very touchy with each other, even if Josie isn’t straight and Hope isn’t either.

This means nothing, even if Hope gets distracted by Josie while on her quest to find the phone. It’s hard not to stare, when Josie is about an inch or two away from her, pulling her pajamas back into place and stretching sort of excessively. Josie keeps on tilting her head this way and that as she raises her arms in the air, the small actions exposing Josie’s midriff and bare, elegant neck.

Fuck. How had Hope even made it through the night without going into cardiac arrest? It’s so obvious how beautiful Josie is now, all long, long limbs, chocolate eyes, and golden skin.

A faint clicking noise sounds from Josie’s bones and she grimaces, finally looking at Hope again.

Hope freezes like a deer in headlights, her mouth propping open the slightest bit. She holds her breath for a second, sure Josie has caught her staring, but Josie smiles unknowingly.

“Are you looking for your phone?” She asks and Hope nods, unable to speak. Josie leans over the edge of the bed and returns with the device in hand. Apparently, it had somehow ended up on the floor. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Hope taps her thumb against the screen. She expects to see several messages as soon as it lights up, but all she has is one from Penelope complaining about her leaving the drum kit again (Hope will have to go get that later), MG asking if she’s okay, and Rebekah telling her to come home and feed the cat.

Ugh. Yoda can starve.

Hope scrolls over the three notifications, partially in disbelief. No texts from Landon.

She gets that he could still be mad at her, but he’s usually the one to apologize first or at least start the conversation. It isn’t like him to just not say anything at all. He always says something, even if it’s just to tell Hope to go away.

“You okay?” Josie inquires, most likely noticing Hope’s frown. It’s a gentle question, not pushing or too curious, just concerned.

“Yeah.” Hope nods. She can get over this. She’ll just check in with Landon later and then they can get over everything together, like a couple would. “I’m a little hungry, though. Do you want to get breakfast with me?”

Wow. Where had that come from? When Hope opened her mouth, she had no intention of inviting Josie to a meal. Not that she’s opposed to the idea, she just hadn’t been expecting it.

Josie seems to have not been expecting it either, her surprise showing on her face.

“Yeah.” She agrees instantly, but a guilty look flashes in her eyes. “Actually, I have to stop by the gym and drop something off. We could go right after, though.”

“Okay.” Hope is fine with that. She guesses she can push her reconciliation with Landon to a later date.

Josie’s smile widens into one of bliss and Landon fades out of Hope’s brain entirely.

-

“Wait! I forgot something.” Josie says at the bottom of the stairs, touching a hand to Hope’s arm. “Give me a second.”

Hope nods, not able to argue since Josie is already halfway up the stairs. She stands in the living room, alone and awkward in the unfamiliar house, hoping she doesn’t run into Josie’s dad. It’s not like Hope did anything with or to Josie, but she knows how it must look to have her stumbling out of his daughter’s room the morning after a party.

Hope isn’t trying to get chased out of the house by an adult man with a shotgun. The living room is a little too broad and open for her taste, so she wanders into the kitchen.

Bad idea.

Lizzie is munching on a sandwich, sitting up on the counter and scrolling through her phone nonchalantly. She must notice Hope, because she looks up at the sound of footsteps, but her stare is so vacant that it almost seems as if Hope is see-through or something.

Hope is about two seconds away from going these are not the droids you’re looking for and taking off in the other direction, but she won’t let Landon or MG’s nerd influence weigh on her.

“Did you have sex with my sister?” Lizzie asks randomly and Hope coughs, spluttering in shock while Lizzie simply narrows her eyes.

It takes Hope a while to respond. Lizzie starts to tap her foot impatiently, wearing an annoyed expression that reminds Hope of Rebekah at the DMV.

“We- we barely know each other.” She replies and scratches the back of her neck. God. Is she blushing?

Sex with _Josie_?

Okay, Hope knows how this all must look. She was literally just thinking about this exact thing a few seconds ago, but she hadn’t dived into the visuals of the thought. Now, Hope has to make a strong effort to keep the inappropriate thoughts far away from her mind.

“The question still stands, Mikaelson.” Lizzie bites into her sandwich and comes away with a mouthful of bread and cheese, which she shamelessly speaks through. “You better not hurt her.”

Hope stammers for a solid minute until Josie arrives again, this time with a bag.

“Sorry. Did Lizzie give you any trouble?” Josie questions and Hope’s gaze slides to Lizzie, who is making a gesture that indicates she’ll stab Hope in the neck if she says anything.

(Or karate-chop Hope in the neck? Lizzie isn’t all that great with the hand gestures.)

“No, she didn’t.”

-

The gym Josie takes her to is mainly centered around boxing. It has a cage in the middle of the room, a bucket of gloves, and a wide area for anyone who wants to hit the punching bags, but only a few exercise machines. The entire building is humid from sweat and shared body heat, and a lot of buff men are working out nearby.

It’s not the type of place Hope would expect to see Josie in, but she doesn’t comment on it. She remembers what Josie had said earlier, about not being helpless, and she can picture how Josie’s face fell when Landon underestimated her that one time in the kitchen. She definitely doesn’t want to get on Josie’s bad side, especially since Josie keeps on accidentally hitting her.

Hope _does_ let a little bit of her shock show when Josie stands near one of the muscled guys and strikes up a conversation with him.

“Hey, Jer.” Josie doesn’t hesitate to lift herself up on her tippy toes and hug him.

Hope stands behind them silently. She has no reason to be uncomfortable, and yet something squirms beneath her skin. It’s unnerving, like having a bug crawl over you. She can’t shake the feeling as much as she tries and clears her throat, only gaining relief when _Jer_ removes his arms from Josie’s waist.

Who even is this guy? He looks old, like he could be in his thirties, and yet his smile is… boyish. Young. Like he never grew up. The expression he points at Josie is nothing but loving.

Hope hates him.

“Jeremy, this is Hope.” Josie gestures between them. “Hope, this is my step-brother, Jeremy.”

Oh.

Okay, then. Never mind. Jeremy is… alright.

Hope smiles politely and offers her hand, feeling as if she is mentally retracting her claws. Why had she been so quick to hate him? A second ago, Hope was imagining punching him across the face, and now she holds no anger towards him at all.

“Nice to meet you, Hope.” Jeremy’s hand is damp with sweat, but other than that he seems like a perfectly acceptable guy.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

Jeremy squeezes her hand once more and then shifts his attention to Josie. “I think Pedro wants to see you, by the way.”

Before Hope can ask who Pedro is, a small boy with curly hair runs over yelling Josie’s name. He jumps and Josie is ready to catch him, swinging him a little through the air and making airplane noises. Pedro is so happy to see her that he has to spend a few seconds collecting himself, even once Josie sets him down.

“Have you been working on your punches, buddy?” Josie kneels in front of him and holds up her hands, a cheesy determined look on her face.

“Of course.”

Pedro mirrors her expression and begins hitting his tiny fists against her palms. Josie pretends to be deterred by each small blow, wincing or dramatically wringing out her hand while she acts as if he’s the strongest boy in the world.

By the end of it, Pedro is grinning wildly in pure joy and Hope feels the same. This is probably the most adorable thing she has ever seen.

Pedro eventually takes notice of her. He steals a quick glance and then very obviously turns redder than ever, eyes going wide. Jeremy laughs and excuses himself to go back to his workout.

“She’s really pretty.” Pedro whispers to Josie, like a secret, although he says it rather loudly.

Josie leans in, too, just as secretive. “I know.”

The comment from Josie makes Hope’s cheeks heat and the warmth only grows when Pedro nods right towards her, getting Josie to glance up at Hope.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Pedro asks, all traces of subtlety gone now.

Josie blushes, the same heat that’s attacking Hope going for her now. Hope would come to her rescue, but it turns out she’s pretty much useless when Pedro is pointing obviously between them.

“Uh.” Josie stands up to her full height. She faces Hope but doesn’t really meet her eyes. “No.”

“Oh.” Pedro nods. He processes the information shortly, seeming as if he understands something they don’t. “So not yet, then.”

Hope and Josie stammer in unison, stumbling over their words together. The half-words come out strangely synchronized. It would be creepy if Hope had time to focus on it, but she doesn’t, and neither does Pedro. He skips away from the chaos he has caused, leaving Hope and Josie to shyly converse with each other.

“Cute kid.” Hope remarks, which makes Josie’s cheeks darken further, into a pretty red color.

Josie bumps her shoulder against Hope’s lightly and leads her through the gym. She still looks a bit embarrassed, but Hope chooses to be a good person and not comment on it. It’s hard not to say anything or tease Josie about it, mostly because it’s all she can think of herself.

Why had Pedro thought they were dating?

They go to a room in the back that is noticeably colder inside than the actual gym. It’s an office with minimal decorations. The only one Hope can spot is a picture of Jeremy, his arms around an unknown brunette girl and the twins, who both look much younger.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” Hope says. She hadn’t noticed a room for anyone else in the time she had spent at Josie’s house.

“Oh, I have another sister, too.” Josie is busy sorting through the desk’s cabinets. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you at breakfast.”

“Okay.”

Hope stands around while Josie does whatever it is she’s doing. She spends her time trying to picture another Saltzman and fails to do so. She has barely gotten a chance to speak to Alaric or Lizzie, so all she can imagine is another Josie that has Lizzie’s blonde hair.

It’s sort of horrifying.

Josie pulls her gloves out of her bag. Her _pink_ gloves with cute, white bunnies on them. Hope cracks a smile, incredibly pleased by every detail of Josie she gets.

“What?” Josie says, noticing Hope’s amusement.

“Your gloves are adorable.” Hope shrugs, not embarrassed. It’s just a fact. Bunnies are cute.

“No.” Josie points a glove at her defiantly. She pouts but her eyes show something playful. “They’re very deadly.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, _oh_.” She smacks one of the gloves into Hope’s chest and Hope pretends to be wounded, stepping back dramatically.

She usually wouldn’t do something this childish, but the idea is lingering in her head from earlier with Pedro and the bout of laughter that Josie emits is spurring her on.

Josie continues to land devastating (very light) blows on Hope’s shoulders, while Hope stumbles backwards as if she has been shot. She is almost too busy laughing and ducking away from Josie to realize that there is suddenly nowhere to back into, just a wooden desk.

“Yay.” Josie whoops, once she has effectively trapped Hope. “See? I got you.”

Yes, she does.

-

Josie’s long story goes like this:

“So, my dad used to be married to this woman, Isobel, who already had Elena and Jeremy. Then she died, so my dad sorta-kinda helped raise Elena and Jeremy, with this other woman, Jenna.” Josie pauses to shove her fork into her mouth and chew a bite of her waffles. “But then Jenna also died, so later my dad married my mom and they had Lizzie and I.”

Hope nods slowly, trying to process it all. She supposes she can’t harp on anyone for having a bit of family drama, considering her history. It’s not too hard to piece together, actually. She’s heard of more complicated situations before.

It looks as if Josie is going to ask Hope about her own family, but Hope isn’t ready for that. She rushes to question Josie about something else, intent on not broaching the topic of dead parents.

“What about your mom?” Hope questions. Surely, Josie’s dad couldn’t have _three_ dead exes.

“Oh. She died, too.” Josie responds and Hope nearly chokes on her eggs. Shit.

It’s not that she’s a stranger to death, it’s just that she hadn’t expected Josie to roll through three deaths in one sitting.

“It’s okay, though.” Josie continues. “I didn’t really know her. I was a baby.”

Hope has the knee-jerk urge to say that she is sorry, but she had hated hearing that when her own mother died. Sorry for what? It means nothing when it comes from uncomfortable strangers.

They both go on eating in silence. It’s not exactly comfortable. Josie probably thinks that Hope is being quiet because she, like many other people, does not know what to say when it comes to death. In reality, Hope is just awkward and not used to so much social interaction.

What is she supposed to say now?

Occasionally, Josie steals an unsubtle glance at her, like she is on the verge of asking a question that never comes, but she doesn’t speak until a few minutes later.

“Pedro was right, you know.” Josie says out of the blue. Hope raises her eyebrows in question, but Josie’s attention seems to be firmly planted on a syrupy waffle. “You’re really pretty. I get why he was so flustered.”

“He was flustered?” Hope repeats. She had spent most of her time at the gym watching Josie. At this rate, Pedro and her might just be in the same boat.

“Oh, yeah. Full heart eyes.” Josie uses her hands to form a heart. The action is so endearing that Hope almost forgets everything entirely.

Almost.

“Wait.” Hope smirks smugly, though she feels about as flustered as a kindergarten boy. “What was it you just said about me being really pretty?”

Josie rolls her eyes and fills her mouth with another forkful, a slight smirk on her lips but no response.

-

After breakfast, Hope bikes to the library, where Landon usually goes to brood whenever he’s in a bad mood.

Hope walks all around the building, checking every floor and shelf, but she finds nothing. She has sent Landon two messages since breakfast, but he still isn’t responding. It’s odd. It’s like he’s disappeared, which never truly happens. Landon always runs from confrontation, but he always runs _to_ the library, not anywhere else.

Since Landon isn’t there, Hope takes a couple of books off the shelves and flips through them. She ends up grabbing a book titled _Soulmates: A Complete Study,_ and reading it for a while. It’s just the basics that she learned back in elementary school, stuff about matching marks and feelings that are described as astronomical.

What a load of crap. Nothing about Landon is overwhelming to her. If it were, she wouldn’t have said those things at the party and he wouldn’t be dodging her so carelessly.

Still, Hope continues to look through the book.

_Rejecting your soulmate could result in dire consequences. Subjects who have resisted their mates will begin to have unusual trembles, loss of time, uncontrollable apologizing, and in some cases even death. It is essential to accept them wholeheartedly._

Hope actually hadn’t known that. No one tells you what happens if someone rejects their mate, because no one does. Why would anyone back away from the universe’s gift? It seems stupid to try to get rid of someone who has nothing but love to give.

Yet, here Hope is, sitting alone instead of trying to find Landon.

What’s worse is, Hope thinks they may be having some of these symptoms. She remembers how Landon had trembled at the party right before their argument and how Hope herself had been close to shaking the entire time.

Shit.

Hope gets up, intent on continuing to her next stop. She doesn’t want to die just because they had an argument.

-

Seylah Kirby still does not seem to like Hope, even after all of these years of passing by each other in Landon’s house. Then again, she doesn’t seem to like anyone much, but only Hope gets the full-on glare from Seylah whenever they greet each other.

“Hi.” Hope says uncomfortably, trying to look past her and into the house. Landon is usually the one to answer the door. “Is Landon—“

Seylah walks away from her, disappearing into the house. Hope isn’t sure if that is a dismissal or an invitation. It seems like a dismissal, but the door is still hanging open, so she can’t decide. She stands there silently, feeling increasingly awkward and confused. Is she supposed to just _wait_?

All of this seems awfully rude.

Sure enough, Seylah returns with a piece of paper and hands it to Hope. She smiles tightly, her mouth barely curving, the slightest hint of pity in her eyes. Hope gulps and peers down at the letter, partially just to get the sight of Seylah’s sad smile away from her. Somehow, it’s a lot worse than the glare.

_Dear Hope,_

_I know you will be angry with me for this, but I also believe that we can work through it. I’m going to stay with my dad for the rest of the summer. Honestly, I need space. I need to think things through. I care about you now and I always will, but I’m worried I’m growing into someone you’ll hate instead of love. When I get back, we can figure everything out together, but for now we need some distance._

_Love, Landon_

_P.S: I left my phone at home. Don’t call._

Don’t call?

Hope swallows down a lump of anger and regret, the emotions getting stuck in her throat and dying there. She tries to reign it all in, because Seylah is still watching her. Hope wants to scream. She wants to grab Landon by the neck and drag him back to town.

He can’t just _leave_ her with some stupid letter and expect her to be okay.

“Sorry.” Seylah murmurs, sounding genuine but unsure of how to proceed, and closes the door.

Hope stands on the porch alone.

Abandoned.


	6. Chapter 6

Hope has an important decision to make. Vanilla or chocolate ice cream? Fries or burgers? Which unhealthy, calorie-filled food should she choose to plug her empty, broken heart with?

Vanilla or chocolate ice cream?

Fries or burgers?

Both?

Both.

Hope swipes all the items off the shelves, getting a couple extra bags of chips along her way to the cashier. It’s been a week since Landon left (broke up with her, dumped her, ditched her) and she is pretty sure she hasn’t eaten a single vegetable in any of those seven days. Or had any water. She lives off of soda and melted ice cream now and that is… perfectly fine. It’s fine. She’s fine.

“Back again, Hope?” Larry, the cashier, greets as she gets to the front of the store. He grins at her.

She doesn’t grin back.

“Just tell me how much it costs, Larry.” So, Hope is on a first name basis with the guy from the gas station. It’s not that bad. Again, it’s fine.

“That’ll be nine dollars and fifty-seven cents.”

Hope digs into her pocket for the money. She has to push past several candy bar wrappers, rolled up and stuffed in the back of her pockets. It takes a second, but she eventually finds the dollars.

She slaps a ten dollar bill onto the counter and swipes her bag off it. “Keep the change.”

“Have a good day!” Larry calls.

_Yeah, yeah,_ Hope thinks, bitterly, _fuck you Larry._

Her brain isn’t any more pleasant during the walk home, spewing out mental insults and swears at any innocent passerby. Hope even begins to get angry at random, inanimate objects. At one point, she stops to glare down and cuss out a piece of plastic on the street before not so calmly putting it in a nearby trash can. Okay, maybe things are not fine. Maybe Hope has lost it, just a little, but it’s justified, isn’t it?

Her boyfriend of fucking forever picked up and left without a warning, just left a stupid letter that does absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things.

He could have talked to her.

He could have stayed.

He could have given a shit or had the basic human decency to at least end things in person.

Fuck Landon Kirby.

When Hope gets back to her house, she pushes past her Aunt Rebekah and locks herself in the garage - her only safe space.

It’s not hard to slump to the floor and cuddle up to her precious snacks, peeling open all of the packages with the utmost care and attention. It’s not hard to wolf down those cheap, frozen fries from the gas station or to sip the melted vanilla goodness right out of the carton like it’s water. It’s not hard to fill up her stomach with anything and everything she bought, because at least food is not going to leave her.

Ugh.

It is getting kind of hard to move after downing so much dairy in one sitting. Maybe she should slow down on that…

“Hope!” Someone starts to pound on the garage door. If she listens closely, Hope can tell that it’s Penelope.

Double ugh. Hope doesn’t want anyone to see her like this. She stays quiet, crouching down a bit more. Why can’t the world leave her alone for five seconds?

“Hope isn’t home!” Hope yells, in her best Rebekah voice. Which is pretty good, at least in her opinion. She nails the accent.

Unfortunately, Penelope is smart enough to peer through the garage window and spot Hope there, laying in her own filth. Hope can see the obvious pity that flashes across Penelope’s face. It hurts. It churns Hope’s stomach (although that might just be the food) to be looked at with even an ounce of pity, as if she’s someone who needs it.

“I can see you!” Penelope calls, pointing a finger at Hope.

“I’m sick!”

“You’re not!”

“I have the flu!”

“No you don’t!”

“Just go away!”

All Hope wants to do is be alone for a while. Is that too much to ask? Is that too hard for people to understand?

Apparently it is.

Penelope continues to knock on the door. “Come on, we should talk about this. Landon is an ass, but we still have to practice. And we’re worried about you.”

Hope stares at the floor beneath her, wishing it would swallow her whole. She briefly wonders if there is some sort of alternate dimension that she could escape to, where even would forget her existence. Then, finally, she could get the peace she wants and deserves.

“Okay, fine. Be that way. But I’m coming back with MG tomorrow and if you don’t get up we’re busting down the door!” Penelope knocks her fist against the garage once more. She lingers, but soon enough Hope hears the sound of retreating footsteps.

Good. Finally.

Hope piles another spoonful of ice cream into her greedy mouth and promptly chokes on it as soon as she looks up. She coughs and splutters wetly, feeling her throat ache. Josie is watching her. As in, _Josie_ Josie.

Josie Saltzman.

Beautiful, funny, kind, Josie Saltzman who barely knows Hope and could easily decide that Hope is incredibly gross for having a meal on a dirty floor.

Josie Saltzman is watching her completely pig out on ice cream in her garage, as if Hope is a pathetic, sad weirdo. What’s worse is, she now has a giant ice cream stain on the front of her shirt. Damn it.

This is not an attractive look.

Hope does the only thing she can think of. She waves. After a moment, Josie waves back. Not only waves, but holds up her finger like she is telling Hope to wait a second.

Okay. Hope can do that. She sits up, trying her best to look more presentable, and rubs at the stain with her palm (as if that’ll help).

Josie returns with a whiteboard in hand. She puts it in her lap while she writes, then holds it up to the window.

It reads: _R u okay?_

Oh.

Josie stares back at her expectantly.

_Oh_. Right. Hope is supposed to answer. She gets up and fastly searches the garage for something to write with. She finds a notepad and a marker on top of one of the boxes in the corner and gets to work writing out a response. Once she’s done, she holds up the pad for Josie to see.

_I’m fine,_ Hope wrote. This is a lie. Her brain is a constant litany of: fuck you fucking Landon, fuck fuckity, fuck fuck.

She’s a little mad. Just a little.

Josie responds: _u sure?_

Hope hesitates.

For some reason, she doesn’t want to lie to Josie again. For some reason, telling the truth seems a lot easier than telling more blatant lies. For some reason, every muscle in her body ignores all of the concerns in her head.

She ends up writing: _no_.

Which is the truth. A truth Hope hasn’t told to anyone else. Her tongue stings with the honesty of it, even though she didn’t say the words aloud.

Josie visibly shifts around. Though they are far apart from each other, separated by two houses and two windows, Hope can picture Josie’s pout. The downturn of her lips, the slight furrow of her brows, and the clear sadness in her eyes.

Josie writes back: _can I come over?_

Hope’s hand seems to move without any thought, only instinct. She barely knows what she’s doing when she holds up the notepad again.

It says: _yes_.

—

Fifteen minutes later, Hope is in a clean shirt and is in the middle of giving Josie a brief tour of her garage.

“So, there’s corner number one. Corner number two. Corner number three and - you’ll never guess this one - corner number four.” Hope says, pointing at each one as she speaks.

Josie openly giggles at Hope’s explanation. Pride swells in Hope’s chest, her first warm emotion in a while. She made Josie giggle.

“It’s not much.” Hope admits. She wishes that she had the courage to show Josie her actual bedroom upstairs. “I mean, I’ve got a pretty cool cot and some boxes… oh, and the drums!”

How could she forget? They take up like half of the space in the garage.

Hope gestures to it and Josie’s eyes immediately light up, obvious excitement flashing across her face. Hope wants to see that expression forever. Josie is wearing casual clothes, a baggy, yellow shirt and some oversized sweatpants that she’s rolled up twice around her waist. Her hair is up in a ponytail, a few loose strands framing her face.

She looks soft and tempting. Hope’s hands itch to touch her, but if she allowed them to she isn’t exactly sure where they would land.

“I’ve never played. Could you show me?” Josie asks, a hopeful gleam shining in her eyes.

No.

Hope doesn’t like to let people touch her drums.

She doesn’t usually let people play them unless it’s someone she trusts deeply, so—

“Sure.” Hope blurts. Damn it. Where did that come from? She fully intended to say no just a second ago.

“Yay!” Josie actually develops super speed. One moment, she is by Hope’s side, and the next she is sitting behind the drums. “I love learning new things.”

Josie sits up straighter and raises her chin high, obviously trying to look worthy of being taught. As if she has to _try_ to convince Hope of anything. Hope hasn’t known Josie very long, but she gets the sense that it’s difficult to deny her things.

Come on, look at her pout. Who says no to that? Certainly not Hope.

“Okay…” Hope isn’t exactly sure how to do this. She hasn’t actually taught anyone before. Hope figures it isn’t that hard, all she needs to do is get behind Josie and help her out a little.

Hope picks up a spare chair and places it behind the one Josie is on. She tugs it close enough that when she sits down the front of her body brushes Josie’s back. Hope hesitates, unsure of how she should proceed, if there is any way she could do this without draping herself all over Josie. Fuck it. Why is she so nervous? There is really no other way to show her. She tilts forward an inch or two, so that they’re flush against each other, and puts her hands and arms around Josie’s own.

Josie shivers against her. Hope is struck stupid for a second, wondering if she just imagined that or not. She decides it must have only happened in her head.

“Okay, so…” Hope maneuvers their joined hands around to pick up the drumsticks. Josie follows along willingly, unpracticed but eager. “You don’t want to drum too hard or too gentle. There’s a balance.”

Hope’s voice comes out scratchy, but scratchy with what? She doesn’t know.

“Relax your hands. Let me show you.” She gives Josie’s hands a little squeeze. Hope lifts them up and brings them down with some force, showing her just how much pressure to use. Josie does it all without protest, pleasingly pliant in her grip. It doesn’t take much effort to set a pace. “Okay, go ahead. You try.”

Hope releases Josie’s fingers, slipping her hands down to rest on top of the other girl’s thighs. She tries to keep her touch as innocent as possible.

It’s hard to see exactly what Josie is doing, but it sounds decent - the sound is a bit shaky due to a lack of practice, but the beat is consistent. Hope needs to be able to see exactly what she’s doing with her hands to be a proper teacher, though.

She rests her head on Josie’s shoulder. “That’s good. Keep going.”

Occasionally, Hope will adjust Josie’s hands or tell her something new about the instrument, but mostly she just lets Josie play. Hope spends the majority of her time watching Josie’s fingers move, following the flex and pull of them. She’s surprised by how quickly the time passes.

Josie keeps going for a while before she starts to play slower than before and Hope realizes that it is only because Josie is paying more attention to Hope than the drums.

“You’re a good teacher.” Josie compliments her and Hope can feel her exhale when she says it.

“I barely said anything.” Hope chuckles, leaning closer to get comfortable while simultaneously pressing her breasts snugly against Josie’s back.

Josie’s breath hitches. Hope only knows because she can feel it, the tremble up her spine when it happens.

“So, uh.” Josie’s tongue darts out to wet her lips. Hope’s eyes trace the action greedily. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Huh?”

The corners of Josie’s mouth lift, forming a hint of a smile. Hope’s eyes follow that, too. She can’t stop herself from trying to soak up every minor detail of Josie’s face, like a sponge.

“You said you weren’t okay.” Josie reminds her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Reality hits Hope like a splash of freezing water to the face. She frowns. No. She does not want to talk about it. It’s humiliating.

“Uh…”

“We don’t have to. If you don’t want to, just say you don’t want to.” Josie shrugs, as if it’s all that easy. Maybe it is. “You’re not obligated to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s just me. I’m fine with whatever.”

Oh. Hope is taken aback. She’s so used to being pushed for every little detail of her life by everyone around her. This is… refreshing.

It’s nice.

“You’re sure?” Hope asks.

Josie gives a firm nod. “Of course.”

“I don't think I’m really ready to talk about it.” She admits hesitantly, not meeting Josie’s eye. Hope fiddles with her hands, accidentally fiddling with Josie’s, too, in the process. “But… maybe later. I really like talking to you.”

“I really like talking to you, too.” Josie responds, smiling. She gently squeezes Hope’s hands.

Hope suddenly feels hot all over, consumed from the inside out by a burst of heat. She tries to hide the unexpected warmth crawling up her cheeks by burying her head in the crook of Josie’s neck. She finds that Josie’s skin is just as warm, just as heated as her own. Hope can hear Josie’s pulse pounding against her cheek and, strangely, as she listens closer, she realizes that the beat of it falls right in line with her own.

She has the fleeting thought that they are one in the same, somehow connected, tied together by an invisible string that pulls and pulls and pulls.

Hope starts to tap the sticks against the drum at the pace of their heartbeats. “See, it’s like this…”

**. . .**

They start to hang out a lot more after that. Hope sort of hates being surrounded by a lot of people and she can tell that Josie isn’t very fond of big crowds either, so it works for them to spend time alone together. It also helps that they live right next to each other. Josie can come over at any time to talk to Hope about the beauty of the stars and the cuteness of puppies, and Hope can go over to Josie’s to ‘brood’ (Josie’s words) or just to talk and watch a movie.

It becomes part of their routine to watch a movie every other day. They go through the classics, all of the ones they’ve already seen, and some new stuff, all of the ones they haven’t tried yet.

They’ve been sleeping at Josie’s house a lot, lately.

It’s just easier that way, considering Hope lives in her garage and Josie’s bed is much easier to fall asleep on than that god-awful cot.

On Saturday, Hope drives to the store after band rehearsal to go pick up some of those tiny, sweet drinks that Josie likes. The labels are in another language (she thinks Japanese), so Hope isn’t exactly sure what they are called, but she knows they taste pretty good since Josie let her try one.

Anyways, Josie seems happy when Hope brings them to her that night as a surprise. Very happy. Happy enough to pepper Hope’s face with quick kisses, nearly landing on her lips.

“You’re—“ kiss, “the best—“ kiss, “Hope.”

Hope will have to do this more often.

They’re in Josie’s bedroom. The beverages lay at their feet, nearly forgotten as Josie holds Hope in place to deliver a sweet kiss to her forehead. She can feel Josie’s lipstick residue getting leftover on her skin.

“Just give me a second to change into my PJs, okay?” Josie asks.

“Okay.” Hope echoes, sitting down on the bed. Her face feels hot. Her skin feels sweaty. Huh. Strange.

Wonder what that could be about.

She rubs at the red lipstick on her forehead. “Did you go somewhere?”

When Hope looks up, she notices two things: the first is that Josie is already shirtless, the second is that Josie is reaching behind her back. When Hope looks down, she notices one thing: Josie’s pink, lacy bra is on the floor.

Fuck.

Hope’s heart feels like it’s about to thunder out of her chest.

Oh god.

She’s never seen so much perfect, tan skin—

“Yeah. I was on a date.” Josie says and, all of a sudden, Hope feels as if she has been hit by a ton of bricks. She swallows a gulp of pure pain and agony.

“With who?”

“Raf.”

Fuck Rafael.

“Oh.” Hope drums her fingers against her knees. She wants to be anywhere but here. Bile rises to her throat, unexpected and harsh. “That’s nice. I’m going to use the bathroom.”

She blows past Josie (and Lizzie, in the hallway), on her quest to get to the restroom, keeping her mouth sealed shut tight the whole time. As soon as Hope gets there, she slams the door shut and kneels down to dry-heave into the toilet.

Rafael?

Why does just the thought of his name sting her insides? Why can’t she breathe? Why does this feel so horrible?

Hope stays there for a solid minute. She feels as if she might faint or vomit. It’s a new feeling, that burns as hot as rage and tastes like jealousy. It’s one that completely takes Hope off guard. If she were a good friend to Josie, she would be happy that Josie went out with a seemingly nice guy. If she really valued Josie’s friendship, she would be perfectly okay with this.

Is she a bad friend? Is she a bad person? Why does her brain scream something that sounds like _mine, mine, mine_ when Josie belongs to no one?

What if Rafael and Josie are soulmates?

Hope will just have to deal with it. It’ll be okay. It will be fine. Things are okay. Things are fine. This is okay. This is fine.

After taking one more deep breath, Hope returns to Josie’s room. She finds Josie already in bed, under the covers. Josie smiles once she sees Hope.

“Fuck, you’re adorable. Come here.” She makes grabby hands. “I want to cuddle.”

Hope moves on autopilot. One moment she is in the doorway and the next she’s crawling into bed with Josie.

“How was your date?” Hope asks, just because that’s what good friends are supposed to do.

“It was okay.” She bats a hand in the air. “I cut it short, told him I wanted to spend some time with my favorite person.”

Oh. That makes Hope feel a lot better. She sinks into the mattress, content with her title as Josie’s favorite person. It has a nice ring to it. Hope Mikaelson: Josie Saltzman’s favorite.

Josie sits up and pokes Hope’s side. “Roll over for me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

“...Yes.”

“Then roll over.”

Hope rolls her eyes but does as she is told. She gets on her side, so her back is to Josie. For a second, she has no idea what Josie is doing, but then she feels an arm wrap around her waist. Josie pulls Hope flush against her body, holding them closely together.

“Good?”

It’s so warm. And Josie is so, so soft.

“Good.” Hope confirms.

Josie presses a soft kiss to the nape of Hope’s neck. “Good.”

It’s quiet.

It’s quiet for a while, actually. Hope would wonder about whether or not Josie is sleeping, but she can tell by Josie’s breathing pattern that she is still awake.

“Jo?”

Josie hums. “Hmm?”

“I’m really glad you’ve been distracting me these last couple weeks.” Hope admits, out of the blue. She feels Josie trying to shift her around to make eye contact, but locks them in place. “No, no. I just want to talk like this. I told you I wanted to talk about Landon, so… just listen.”

Josie nods.

“It’s actually kind of funny, people used to always say that I was out of Landon’s league and that he should be worried about me leaving him. Look how that turned out, huh? I never really thought he would go. He’s been such a big part of my life for years, I never thought he would just ditch me. It’s kind of like losing a family member.”

Hope takes a deep breath and Josie squeezes her waist reassuringly. She continues. “That’s the weird thing, though. He was my boyfriend, not a family member. I used to be angry, passionate, I guess… but now I’m just disappointed in him. It’s strange.”

What she doesn’t say is: some parts of her heart hurt, but some of them are perfectly fine. Some of them are soaring.

How does her heart soar without the presence of her soulmate?

Was Landon ever really her soulmate at all?

“Plus.” Hope breaks the tense moment with a chuckle. “He was our band’s biggest groupie. Now we don’t have a lead singer or any groupies, so what kind of band are we?”

A pause.

“I can sing.” Josie admits, in her softest voice.

“You can sing?” Hope questions, trying to twist around and being stopped by Josie’s hold on her this time. “Would you sing something for me?”

Another pause.

“Depends. What do you want me to sing?” Josie sounds a little timid.

“...do you know SexyBack by Justin Timberlake?”

“Hope.” Josie pinches her arm, giggling quietly. Something in Hope’s chest loosens.

“Kidding.” Hope grins secretly to herself, the weight on her chest lifting completely. “You can sing whatever you want. I just want to hear your voice.”

So, Josie sings.

Josie sings in a voice so soft and gentle that it seems as if Hope is being wrapped up in a hug. She sings some song Hope doesn’t know the name of, but doesn’t need to, because it touches her heart all the same. She finds herself listening more intently than she ever has in her entire life, drinking in each lyric and lulling herself into a warm, comfortable sleep.

Hope has her eyes closed when Josie speaks.

“Oh, and Hope? About Landon?” Josie says, as they’re about to drift off into sleep. “You are way out of his league. You’re passionate and loving and you deserve to date someone who respects you enough to be there for you.”

Hope gathers up their joined hands and presses them against her heart.

**. . .**

“What is with you?” Penelope asks, setting aside her instrument to inspect Hope. “You’re smiling like a mad woman.”

“I’m texting Josie.” Hope says, distracted by the multiple exclamation points and smiley faces Josie is sending her while they chat about an upcoming movie.

MG and Penelope share a discreet look.

Hope doesn’t notice.

—

“You know school is starting soon.” MG brings up one day, near the end of the summer. “Are you going to fawn over Josie mid-class or is it going to be an at lunch thing, too?”

“I do not _fawn_ over her.” Hope snaps.

MG holds up his hands in surrender. “Just trying to plan out my day.”

—

Hope and Josie are laying in the garage, on the cot. The dying summer sun spills out across the floor and Josie’s face, painting her golden as the sun rises. As gently as possible, Hope traces her fingers over the rounded curves and slopes of Josie’s face, as if treading lightly over broken glass.

It feels peaceful and perfect and… dangerous, somehow.

Hope almost can’t remember a time when her thoughts weren’t completely consumed by this damn girl.

Yoda meows at her.

“Shut up, cat.” Hope grumbles and turns to bury her face in Josie’s side. He doesn’t know shit.

**. . .**

Hope, 6:33pm  
 _You want to come over?_

Hope, 6:33pm  
 _We can watch Mulan_

Josie, 6:40pm  
 _sorry, can’t. raf is taking me to dinner_

Hope allows her phone to slip from her hands and plop onto her chest. She releases a groan that catches the attention of both Rebekah and Yoda, who glance at Hope like she is turning into a crazy person.

Yoda straight up runs away. Ugh. So much for loyalty. They should have gotten a dog.

“Are you okay?” Aunt Rebekah asks, reaching over to gently pat Hope’s side. It’s comforting.

The answer is no.

“Yes.” Hope lies through her teeth, even as a familiar monster scrapes at her insides and claws at her heart.

What would she say if she wasn’t okay? She has no reason to be angry or sad. She needs to calm down and stop being so weird.

Yeah, Hope was looking forward to spending her last night before the school year starts with Josie, but it makes sense that Josie would want to be with Rafael, her… boyfriend. Is that what they are now? Boyfriend and girlfriend? They must be. Hope knows that they’ve gone on a few dates.

What if they’re in love already? Soulmates?

“You look a little green, Hope.” Rebekah points out. “Are you sure that you’re okay?”

Hope stands up. “I’m going to use the bathroom.”

—

Josie, 9:02pm  
 _you wanna come over?_

Hope waits a minute so she doesn’t seem too desperate.

Hope, 9:03pm  
 _Yes_

—

The house is practically empty when Hope gets there, the rest of Josie’s family gone. The lights are nonexistent, not even turned on, so that the inside of the house is as dark as the night sky.

A couple candles are lit.

Josie stands near them, carrying the match, her frame lit up by a faint orange glow. The warmth of the light dances and flickers across her face, revealing a mouth stained blood red and eyes lined with black. She is wearing a dress that shows off her shoulders, the slope of her neck and the smooth dip of her collarbone.

Hope can not stop staring.

She has this strange feeling, all of a sudden, that she will never stop falling into Josie. She wants to pour herself into the other girl, make them one, but that doesn’t make sense outside the confines of her head.

The words never leave her mouth.

What she does say is:

“Hi.”

Josie jumps, placing a hand over her heart. “You scared the shit out of me, Hope. Jesus.”

“Sorry.” Hope murmurs, stepping further into the room. She looks around. This seems romantic, like something someone would set out for a date. “What’s with all the candles?”

“I thought they were nice.” Josie traps her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do you like them?”

“Yeah. They smell good.”

Josie smiles, pleased, and gestures to the couch, indicating that Hope should sit. Again, Hope does so without thinking. She barely even blinks. Just registers the hopeful expression on Josie’s face and jumps into action.

It’s scary that this is becoming familiar.

This push, this pull, this feeling that she does not know, dragging her into the depths of the ocean.

(It’s the type of thing she would tell Landon if he were here. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe it’s too private, too intimate. Maybe the words would get caught in her throat or maybe she would tuck them away like a secret, keep Josie just for her.)

“I’ll be right back.” Josie announces, stepping out of the room and into the dark. Hope hears some rustling in the kitchen. Josie returns with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

“We’re drinking wine?” Hope asks. How did she even get that? And why wine of all things?

“What?” Josie teases. “Do you only drink alcohol from a keg?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Josie pours them both a glass. Hope is used to chugging beer at parties and slamming shots with the band, not drinking fancy wine with pretty girls in dresses. Hope glances down, catching a glimpse of Josie’s upper thigh where the slit of the dress is. She feels severely underdressed in her sweatpants and tank top. Josie actually looks good (more than good - beautiful) and Hope feels as if she looks like she just crawled out of a sewer.

Shit.

She wishes she would have changed first. Hope definitely would have put on something nicer if she knew Josie would be going all out.

All things considered, Hope probably should have thought of this beforehand. Josie told her she was going on a date. Of course Josie would dress up. Rafael is an incredibly lucky guy.

“How was your date?” Hope throws her head back, finishing her glass in one swallow. She wonders if Josie has anything stronger.

“I broke it off.” Josie admits, toeing out of her heels and massaging her feet.

A warm jolt of something (relief, excitement, or happiness?) bursts in her stomach before Hope forces it away. She shouldn’t be happy. Josie is her friend, who is going through a breakup. She shouldn’t want to celebrate.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Hope pours herself another glass of wine.

“Don’t be.” Josie exhales heavily. She leans her head far back, until it rests against the edge of the couch, exposing her unmarked neck and jawline. “He was _so_ nice. Too nice. You know? I’m not saying I want to date an asshole, but it’s like every time he kissed me there was _nothing_. No passion. I want passion. You know how it is, when someone kisses you like they just can’t help themselves?”

Hope pauses, thinking. She looks down at her glass, swirling around the liquid inside.

“Actually, no.”

Hope can feel Josie staring at her, but can’t bring herself to meet Josie’s eyes. Heat travels to her face, building beneath her cheeks. She is sure that she’s blushing.

“Landon never kissed me like that. He was very, uh…” Hope trails off, trying to find the right thing to say. It only becomes harder when Josie starts to rub tiny circles into Hope’s leg, which should be reassuring but are far from it. “Careful. I guess.”

“Hope, you’re _blushing_.” Josie points out in a faux scandalized, breathy tone.

“Shut up.” Hope lowers her head slightly.

Josie continues to trace circles into Hope’s thigh. It’s all Hope can feel. All she can focus on, other than the push and the pull - the electric current that seems to run between them, calling Hope to do god knows what, but always calling. Always there, on the edge of erupting.

Josie lifts Hope’s head by placing a single finger under her jaw.

“It can be really fun.” Josie whispers, in a voice like fire, her finger trailing across Hope’s skin. Hope leans into the touch, nearly purring. “You feel it everywhere, when it’s done right. It… takes your breath away, having someone want you so bad that you can _feel_ it.”

“Josie—“

“What the hell?” The lights flicker on suddenly and Lizzie stands in the doorway, arms crossed. “I thought you were out at dinner.”

Josie drops her hand, sighing. “I was. I just got back.”

“Well, clearly not if you had the time to set up your sex candles.”

“They’re not sex candles—!”

“I know the truth!”

Hope blinks, barely listening to whatever they’re arguing about. Her head is still spinning with too many inappropriate images, thoughts of Josie’s flushed, pink skin and her pillowy mouth sliding perfectly against Hope’s own. Thoughts of Josie on top of her, under her, inside of her…

Oh no. Oh no. Damn it. Oh no.

“I’m going to go. I’ll see you both tomorrow at school.” Hope stands up and flies out of there without another word.

—

That night, she dreams of tender touches under the shield of thick blankets, pouty lips forming a perfect circle, heavy breathing, wandering hands, and a secret.

She does not want to wake up.

**. . .**

On the first day of school, Hope waits outside of the building with Penelope and MG for Lizzie and Josie.

Penelope is the only one that complains. MG is totally on board with waiting around for Lizzie and Hope would have waited outside for Josie anyways, even if she had to do it alone. This is her first time at the school. Hope wants to make sure that it ends up going well.

“They’re taking forever.” Penelope says, even though it’s only been five minutes. “Do you guys think that Landon will be here?”

Oh. Right.

Landon.

With everything that happened last night, Hope hadn’t even thought about that, but now that the summer is over there is no reason for him not to be here. He can avoid her, but he can’t avoid all of his classes. She still hasn’t gotten any more texts or letters from him, but there is no way he would just ditch school. He’s not the type.

“Lizzie!” MG calls, waving at her. To everyone’s surprise, she actually returns the wave. “Hey!”

Good for MG.

Josie gets out of her dad’s car in a simple, cute outfit - a black skirt and a soft, pink sweater. She practically bounces over to Hope, spreading her arms out wide as she approaches. Hope accepts the embrace easily. The top of her head fits right under Josie’s chin. She subtly inhales, allowing the sweet scent of Josie’s perfume to fill up her nose.

“Hey, Jo.” Hope greets, holding her close. “Are you excited?”

“Yes. Did you get your schedule?” Josie beams at her. Hope notices that she’s already smiling, almost just as wide.

“Yep.”

Hope reaches behind her and unzips her bag. She fishes out her class schedule and hands it to Josie, while Josie does the same. They have two classes together. That’s less than Hope wanted, but it’s better than nothing.

“C’mon.” Hope grabs Josie’s hand. “Let me walk you to your first class.”

“Hey, we exist, too!” Lizzie calls after them. Hope huffs, but waits for everyone else to catch up.

—

The day passes pretty smoothly.

Since it’s their first day, the teachers don’t bother to assign too much work, so most of her classes are just introductions. The teachers basically do some ice breakers, hand out a short worksheet, and call it a day. Hope is fine with that. She isn’t looking forward to having actual homework. She decides to enjoy the ease of her first day while she can, joking around carelessly with her friends and taking every opportunity she can to talk to Josie.

(Hope doesn’t see Landon. At all. Which is odd. Her friends are his friends.)

At lunch, Hope searches the cafeteria for Josie. She doesn’t see her at first, but soon finds her standing around and talking to Lizzie.

“Hey, how was class?” Hope questions, really only asking Josie.

She ends up getting two answers.

Josie: “Good. You?”

Lizzie: “It was horrid. The boys here reek of Axe Body Spray and mediocrity. I need a steaming hot shower.”

Hope glances between the twins. She has no idea how anyone speaks to them both at the same time. Their father must be completely and totally exasperated.

“Um.” Who does she respond to? “Cool.”

That seems to work.

Hope stays with them as they get in line for food and pick out what they want. She lingers behind them, making the occasional suggestion on what food tastes horrible and on what is overpriced, but otherwise she stays white. Josie and Lizzie seem to have plenty to say to each other. Hope puts her focus on one twin in particular. It’s no surprise which one she favors.

The few hours of class have ruffled Josie a little, made her look closer to messy than pristine. It’s kind of… _hot_ , seeing her slightly unraveled this way.

Once they’re all done paying for their meals, she leads them over to the lunch table with the rest of the band.

“No Landon?” Penelope asks bluntly, before Hope even gets a chance to put her tray down.

MG swats at her arm. “Shh.”

Hope sits down, ignoring them both. She tries to think of a response that doesn’t dig up old, sad emotions from the summer, but can’t think of one. No one likes to talk about being abandoned. She doesn’t notice how tense she feels about the whole situation until she feels a hand stroking up her arm.

It’s Josie’s hand.

Hope exhales, her muscles relaxing. Josie raises her eyebrows, as if to ask _are you okay_ , and she nods.

She feels great.

“Did you hear Wade passed out in math today?” Penelope brings up, stabbing at her plate of pasta.

“I was in that class. World History.” MG chimes in. “It was so weird. The dude just collapsed.”

“It was probably from the heat. He wears a ton of sweaters.” Hope adds and everyone seems to nod in agreement, except for Lizzie, who doesn’t know who Wade is.

—

When the school day ends, Hope hugs Josie goodbye and heads out into the parking lot to find her aunt. She spots Rebekah, parked right in front of the building.

As soon as Hope gets into the car, she knows that something is wrong.

Instead of greeting her, Rebekah stays deadly silent. The air in the car feels unnaturally cold, despite the heater being on. Hope just _knows_. There’s a sharp pang in her chest, a sudden weight on her shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” She asks.

“Hope, honey…” Rebekah trails off, looking away. “Landon is dead.”


	7. Chapter 7

Hope can’t sleep.

She stays up all night, running through a rush of different emotions—grief, sadness, and fury. She never settles on one for long, always jumping to the next feeling, always uncertain, always afraid.

Her brain plays the memory on a constant loop.

_“Oh god—is, is something going to happen to me now?” Hope croaks out. “Because of the bond?”_

_Rebekah shakes her head. “No, Hope.”_

_“How do you know?”_

_“Because…” Her voice sounds underwater. “The doctors pulled Landon’s shirt open, trying to save him. He’s got wings, right on his hip. I’m sorry. He didn’t have the same mark as you.”_

So, first there is anger: Hope curses his name for lying to her, for leading her on and disappearing without telling her truth first. She feels raw waves of rage, thinking of that stupid letter and that day he got his mark, when he had tried to hide from her instead of just talking. She swears she hates him. She regrets ever meeting him at all.

Then, there is grief: Hope thinks, over and over, that it would be okay if he lied and left her, just as long as someone didn’t have to die on her again.

And, finally, sadness: Hope blames it on herself. It was her fault. She had said such mean things to him, the night before he left. She didn’t love him enough. She wasn’t enough. Maybe if she had tried harder, the universe would have made things right and he wouldn’t have felt the need to leave her at all. Sure, they dated, but he was also her best friend, and he was _so young,_ and there must be something wrong with her because people just keep on—

Hope exhales, playing around with her phone, tossing it between her hands.

She can’t sleep.

At this point, she’s beginning to believe that she’s cursed. Who’s next? Rebekah? Penelope? MG? Josie? There are only so many people a girl can lose before she goes insane and Hope is close to that limit.

It’s been days of this. This cycle of not sleeping, avoiding everyone, dodging Rebekah’s attempts to talk. Hope is exhausted.

Her chest aches.

She tosses and turns but the weight beneath her skin only shifts with her, never goes away. It feels different from grief. This weight is new (or maybe old, but just now noticed) and equally as heavy, but it feels more like longing. Hope stands up on instinct alone, padding over to the doorway. Her legs and feet groan in protest—somehow, they fell asleep while she was awake—but she gets this feeling, this odd churning in her gut, that tells her where she needs to be.

Hope leaves the garage, slips out of the house, and walks barefoot across the lawn. Her feet are soundless, damp from the grass underneath her.

She begins to climb the tree beside Josie’s room.

It’s instinct. She’s on autopilot again. She doesn’t even realize that what she is doing could be very creepy until she is slipping through Josie’s open window. Some strange part of Hope insists that Josie left the window open for her, but a more logical side reminds her that this is trespassing. Hope stays planted on the windowsill for far too long, going over her options. The light inside the room is faint, mostly the moonlight and the stars, but she can spot the defining features of Josie’s form, anyways—a long, slim body tucked under the sheets, a hand curled up around her face, a red tint to her nose, and a tiny furrow in her brow.

Hope should go. This is weird. She would judge anyone else for doing this exact thing. It’s creepy.

Brown eyes suddenly shoot open.

Shit.

“Hope?” Josie blinks blearily at her, yawning like a kitten. “Why are you here? Am I dreaming?”

Hope prays that Josie doesn’t think that she’s a total pervert. Or, if Josie does, then Hope hopes they can still hang out without it being too much of a problem. She really has no explanation for this. She barely remembers walking over here.

“Is it okay if I—“ She swallows hard. God, this is so embarrassing. “I just want to be held.”

Why did she say that?

Oh god.

Her chest grows thick and her eyes start to water out of nowhere. This is mortifying. Hope should leave now. She hopes that Josie doesn’t see the dark circles under her eyes or notice the slightly rough edge to her voice.

Hope gulps, backing off. “Sorry. I’m sorry. This is weird. I’m going to go—“

“No.” Josie shoots forward, clasping a hand over Hope’s wrist to make her stay. “Of course you can be here. Sweetie, of course. I just wasn’t expecting this.”

Josie moves around to make room for her on the bed. She fluffs the pillows and gently pats a spot beside her.

“Come here.”

Hesitantly, Hope walks across the bedroom and crawls onto the bed. She smiles faintly as Josie lifts up the sheets for her and slips underneath them silently. The bed is comfortable, warmed by Josie’s lingering body heat and soft beneath the joined weight of their bodies. This isn’t the first time that they’ve done this, but it feels different somehow, showing up past midnight like this.

It feels like a secret.

Like something Hope would tuck far away, in the back of her mind, along with every other tender emotion she has ever felt in her life.

Josie rolls over, wraps an arm around Hope’s waist, and pulls her close. “This okay?”

“Yes.”

Hope manages to sleep that night, staring at the tiny freckle on Josie’s bare shoulder and listening to her breathing even out as the time passes.

—

The second time she does it, the window is open again and she’s sure Josie left it that way for her.

Josie is laying on the side of her bed, curled up in a ball, as if she intends to give Hope as much space as she wants. Hope doesn’t want space. She crawls in next to Josie. The added weight on the bed or the slight creak of the mattress must tip Josie off that Hope is here, because she rolls over without a word and begins to blindly search for Hope’s waist.

It takes Josie three tries, but eventually she is able to get an arm around Hope’s hips and yank her in close.

—

The third time Hope does it, Josie is awake.

“Hey.” Josie stands in the doorway of her room, dressed but dripping water everywhere from her hair. She rubs at the top of her head with a towel, using her spare hand to gesture to the bed. Hope is just glad that Josie never pressures her to talk. She gets on the bed and Josie is quick to follow. “C’mere. I’m cold.”

Hope does as requested and scoots closer. She finds herself, once again, under Josie’s arm.

“Night, Jo.” Hope murmurs sleepily, turning to fit her chin on top of Josie’s head. Her hair is damp and smells of some lovely, floral shampoo.

“Night, Hope.”

—

The fourth time Hope does it, she dreams.

She dreams that night about her parents. Hope dreams of jazz music playing late in the morning, of time spent with people who love her. She sees a wide, stretching path in the woods and the tall trees surrounding it. She sees paint—vivid color, blunt reds, clear whites, shining yellows—on an old canvas, the strokes familiar but out of reach.

Hope wakes up trembling, unable to catch her breath, holding onto Josie with a vice grip.

“Hope, Hope.” Josie’s fingers stroke over her jaw, her neck, her shoulders. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You were just dreaming.”

Hope slowly loosens her grip, already murmuring an apology that Josie accepts without hesitation. Her shirt is slightly wet, dampened by sweat, but Josie doesn’t seem to mind. She rubs tiny circles into Hope’s back while Hope gasps and shivers, still trying to force some oxygen back into her lungs.

Shadows seem to loom in the darkest corners of the room, three of them—Klaus, Hayley, and now Landon.

She’s cursed.

“Everything isn’t okay.” Hope admits quietly. She hears, more than sees, Josie sit up next to her.

Hope chooses to focus on Josie, instead of every other detail of her life. She watches the rise and fall of her chest, catches a glimpse of the loose strands of hair framing Josie’s face, and stares openly while Josie’s hands travel everywhere in an attempt to comfort her. Hope is panting and sweaty and gross, and yet Josie touches her, anyways.

(She wonders if, sometimes, Josie moves purely on instinct, too. On autopilot.)

“Let’s go somewhere.” Hope suggests, swinging her legs out of the bed and starting to search for something warm to put on over her pajamas. She likes Josie’s hoodies.

For a second, Josie watches her move in the dark, as if she thinks Hope is crazy, but soon stands up along with her.

“Where?”

Where turns out to be the community pool in the heart of the town. As expected, the pool is empty and the gates to enter are locked. A stillness has fallen over the water, a special silence created by the lack of people and the dead of the night. She thinks it looks peaceful—a rare moment of quiet in a world that is usually so, so loud. Hope rests her hand on the fence surrounding the area. She wants to go in.

Against all reason, Hope plants her feet on the holes in the fence and begins to climb. Josie pulls her back before she can get too far.

“Can you read?” Josie points at a nearby sign and spells it out for her. “No trespassing.”

Hope rolls her eyes. “I can read. I can also swim, so…”

“You’re reckless.”

“I prefer spontaneous and fun, but use whatever adjectives you want.” Hope starts to climb up the fence again. She pauses when she realizes that Josie still isn’t following her. “Please, Jo?”

Josie curses and swears the whole way over. It’s sort of nice, in a way, to hear Josie complain yet do it anyways. Hope was beginning to think she was the only whipped one in this friendship. She helps Josie as much as she can, offering up her hands to guide her down once they are on the other side of the fence.

“Don’t fall.” Hope advises and receives a dry look.

Josie scoffs. “I was planning to plummet to my death, actually.”

Hope gulps, the reminder of death bringing the weight back to her chest. She hovers closer to Josie, now serious about her comment. She doesn’t want Josie to fall. Who knows what could happen, especially with Hope’s bad track record.

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you.” Josie says, her tone teasing and that weight on Hope’s chest lightens up considerably.

There isn’t a hint of pity in her eyes. No mention of Landon. No mention of Hope’s nightmare.

Hope loves it.

“I’m pretty sure I’m faster than you.” Hope muses through a grin. “If we get caught, I’m sprinting.”

Josie frowns, affronted, and slaps Hope across the arm. “This was your idea!”

Laughing, Hope dips her hand into the pool and splashes a handful of water at Josie. Only a few drops actually land on her, but it has the desired effect. Josie jumps away, squealing like a mouse.

“At least let me change first.” Josie reaches down and grabs the hem of her shirt, lifting it off.

Hope swallows. It’s loud in the silence.

Josie tosses her shirt aside and begins to slide her shorts down her impossibly long legs. They pool at her feet in a circle of yellow fabric. Hope stares, dumbly, her fingers twitching at her sides with want. She only stops when Josie catches her eye, then she begins to hurriedly strip off her own clothes.

Hope does a flip into the pool, just to impress Josie. She doesn’t mention that her mom taught her how to do that.

Josie joins her in the water, although in a much less dramatic way. She slips into the pool quietly.

They go back and forth splashing each other like children. Josie giggles and tries to dunk Hope’s head under the water, never holding her under for too long. Hope shoves her hand through the water to splash a sizable amount at Josie’s face.

They laugh until they get tired of it, winded from the lack of sleep and too old to be entertained by something so simple.

Hope dips under the surface of the water, holding herself there for a bit longer than necessary. She touches the bottom of the pool, stays there until it gets hard to breathe, and then stays some more. She resurfaces, gasping, hating herself just a bit for being able to breathe when others can’t.

Josie’s face is half-submerged, but it’s clear that she has been watching Hope for a while now.

“Your hair’s all wet.” Josie points out.

“In a pool?” Hope replies, sarcastically. “Wow, no way.”

“Asshat.” Josie splashes water directly at Hope’s face. Hope coughs and splutters, and once she recovers she finds Josie a lot closer than before. Josie slowly traces her finger along Hope’s jaw, because— _wow_ —she’s close enough to do that now. “It’s cute. You look like a puppy.”

They’re close enough that Hope can clearly see Josie’s eyes. She swears they’ve become darker than the night sky.

“I’m not cute.”

“I beg to differ. I’ve seen you sleep, Mikaelson. You’re not so scary.” Josie grins, head bobbing in and out of the water.

Hope rolls her eyes. “Maybe I’ll start sleeping in my own bed, then.”

But she won’t.

When they walk back together, they end up going inside of Hope’s house, but they don’t go to her bed.

—

They end up in the living room, spread out on the couch. Hope is on her back, her head resting in Josie’s lap while Josie soothing combs her hand through auburn hair. The lights are off. It’s close to sunrise. Hope shuts her eyes and says what she probably should have said four nights ago.

“I think it’s my fault.” The black behind her eyelids provides a safety that Hope enjoys. She doesn’t have to see the surprise flicker across Josie’s face, only has to feel the slight pause her hand does before continuing. “I keep thinking that if I had been nicer to him that night or if I had tried harder to love him, then things would’ve turned out okay.”

Josie’s fingers scratch along her scalp. Hope sighs, leaning into the touch as she speaks.

“You know what my aunt told me? Landon had wings on his hip. Wade was his soulmate. My best guess is that he left to try and fix things, but he did it all wrong, and rejecting his soulmate just made him… implode. I don’t really know what happens. I thought I’d feel it if he died. I didn’t. I feel like a fraud.”

“You’re not a fraud.” Josie interrupts, voice soft but firm. “You just didn’t know.”

“Yeah, but everyone has always said that we had an ‘epic love’ and I never said anything against that. I basically lied to everyone.” Hope thinks of all the relatives that had been intent on coming to the wedding in the future, all the disappointment that she has caused.

“Hope, you can’t blame your heart.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No, you can’t. Look.” Josie’s fingers are slipping around Hope’s wrist all of a sudden, guiding her hand up to her chest. Hope cracks an eye open, unsure of what Josie is doing. “Feel.”

Josie presses Hope’s hand in place. Hope hears her own heartbeat thundering against her palm, beating rapidly just beneath her skin. She never noticed the quick pace of it. She thought she was calm, but her heart has other ideas—it beats all on its own, wildly and recklessly. Josie holds her hand down, on top of Hope’s, and Hope wonders if she feels it, too.

She must.

“You could end up loving a million people. It’s not your fault.” Josie continues to insist. “Think about it. If you could be with anyone in the world right now, who would you choose?”

“You.”

Josie sucks in a breath. “I kind of meant like a celebrity or—”

Before Josie can finish her sentence, Hope leans up and presses her lips to Josie’s.

It’s clumsy. Hope has really only kissed one other person in her life and this isn’t the ideal angle to do such a thing. She tastes a hint of chlorine and mint, but beneath that is something sickly sweet that fills Hope with immediate satisfaction.

It’s over far too quickly.

Josie pulls her mouth away, out of reach, as she makes a surprised little noise. Hope hums, too caught up in her daze to do anything but stare.

“Hope I—“ Josie’s voice shakes, sounding hurt. She struggles to form words. Oh no. “I can’t be your replacement for Landon. I don’t want to be used. I… I didn’t think you’d—you’re emotional about your boyfriend and we can’t—“

Hope shakes her head vehemently. It all comes out horribly jumbled, a rushing flood—a tsunami, a waterfall.

“No, no. This has nothing to do with him.” Hope’s voice cracks. She hates it—loathes it—but keeps going. “I can’t help it. I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about kissing you and touching you and being with you—“

“ _Hope_.”

“I’ve wanted you ever since I’ve met you. I don’t think I know how to turn it off.”

Josie’s eyes are wide, cheeks bright red. “Hope, you—you can’t possibly… I want you, too, but we shouldn’t—“

“—we should—“

“I don’t want to take advantage of you when you’re emotional.” Josie runs a hand through her hair. “What if you regret it in the morning? What if you don’t really want me?”

Who wouldn’t want Josie?

Hope can tell that Josie is now just muttering to herself. She can’t have that. She sits up, taking Josie’s hands in her own and stealing her attention.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Hope raises her spare hand to cup Josie’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spring this on you. I _do_ want you, but… we can just forget about this if you want.”

Josie searches Hope’s eyes. Hope hopes she sees the truth in them. She wants Josie. It’s so clear now.

“I don’t want to forget about it. Could we just hit pause for a while?” Josie requests quietly.

Hope nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

**. . .**

It’s mostly downhill from there.

While they’re finishing up some homework, Hope says something stupid, Penelope tells her that it’s stupid, and Hope says, “Well, you can fuck right off.”

And Penelope replies, “You know, grief doesn’t give you an excuse to be an asshole.”

They start fighting, right there, on the floor of her garage, and Hope gets dust all over her clothes. When Penelope hits her in the face, Hope’s ears rattle and ring, and her mouth tastes metallic.

Later, in the kitchen, Hope tugs open the freezer and hands Penelope an ice pack before getting one for herself. They both nurse their wounds in silence for a while. Hope feels no real anger, at least, not towards Penelope.

“I’m sorry, Hope.” Penelope says, genuinely, and Hope knows it isn’t about the fight.

“It’s whatever.” Hope shrugs and avoids eye contact. “He was an ass, anyways.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“...no, he wasn’t.”

“You should go to the funeral.”

Hope shrugs. Again. “Yeah. Maybe.”

**. . .**

Maybe means yes.

As much as Hope hates funerals, she couldn’t imagine not showing up. She feels obligated to.

It’s a relatively quiet, small service. Landon never had many friends, but the ones who cared show up—Hope, Josie, Penelope, MG, Kaleb, Rafael, Jed, Seylah—and a couple of relatives that Hope has only ever met around the holidays. There are also random adults (parents, mostly) that never even knew Landon, but stop by very early on to comment on how he was so young and full of life.

After the first half hour, it goes from a relatively quiet, small service, to a tiny, nearly silent affair.

MG sweeps her into a bone-crushing hug almost as soon as he sees her, Penelope squeezes her shoulder in passing, and Josie kisses her cheek before stepping away with a far-away, sad look. She looks lovely in black. Hope hates herself for thinking that at Landon’s funeral, of all places.

The rest of the people there shake her hand and politely offer their condolences.

Hope sits in the back.

Logically, she knows that there are people here who would want her to sit front and center and maybe give a speech or two, but she’s half-afraid that if she starts talking then she will start crying and never stop. It feels strange not to have him with her, sitting beside her in an ill-fitting suit. All of it churns her stomach—the long speeches, the tears, the familiarity of death.

But.

Part of her resents herself for not missing him more. Part of her is still angry and betrayed.

Hope drums her fingers against her knee, feeling the fancy fabric of the black dress she borrowed from Rebekah. She wonders what she would say if he got up out of the coffin and walked up to her right now.

She would probably just say hello.

Like an idiot.

Hope leans forward, pressing her forehead to the cold pew in front of her. She sighs at the change in temperature. Her skin is so hot, bubbled up by stress and tension.

Someone else slips into the church, trying to be discreet, but Hope is close enough to hear it. It jars her to look up and see Wade standing there, clutching a bouquet of flowers in his hands. She stares at him for a second before something in her snaps.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She stands up. “You weren’t friends with him.”

Wade looks taken aback. He doesn’t know her well enough to know that none of this is his fault, that Hope has a tendency to build and build and explode all over everything good in her life.

He stammers. “I… I just—“

“You just?” Hope cuts him off, raising her voice, a sudden wave of fury overtaking her. A couple of people turn their heads to watch. “What, you just thought you would show up, unannounced?”

“Well, I—“

“Landon wouldn’t have wanted you here. I don’t even think he knew who you were.” She snaps.

Wade twists the flowers around in his hands, not meeting her eyes. He stands still, but doesn't say a single word in retaliation to her.

“You should go.” Hope crosses her arms, staring him down.

“Other people miss him, too, Hope.” Wade says quietly, still not lifting his gaze from the floor.

Hope scoffs.

She opens her mouth. What she plans to say is: _it’s your fault that he died_. The mean, spiteful words never get past her lips.

By now, have noticed the heated interaction. She is held back from taking anything further by Josie and Rebekah. Her aunt hurriedly pulls her aside, giving Wade the opportunity to slip away.

“You can’t say things like that, Hope.” Rebekah tells her, but it falls on deaf ears. Hope feels so, so angry. “It’s rude. We’re all grieving.”

“I can say whatever I damn well please.” Hope hisses, not bothering to lower her voice.

Josie frowns. “Hope, you’re being cruel.”

“No shit.” Hope’s tone is harsh. She sees the hurt flash across Josie’s face and takes a breath. Her next words are softer. “Just… leave me alone.”

She walks away from them all.

—

Hope goes home.

At this point, it’s sunk in that she was a total ass to everyone she spoke to. Fuck. She will have to apologize to them all. Why is she like this? Such a screw-up, all the time, a barreling force of pain and anger.

Hope finds a bottle of bourbon and goes to her actual bedroom, instead of the garage this time. She pours a glass for Landon, leaves it on the dresser, and keeps the bottle for herself. Hope buries herself under the covers of her bed. She shuts her eyes tight, grateful for this day to end.

Sleep comes easily.

—

It doesn’t feel like she’s hitting pause. It feels as if she is going backwards.

**. . .**

The fifth time Hope crawls through Josie’s window, Josie is waiting for her.

”I was an ass.” Hope admits, hovering near the bed like a dog that needs to be given permission first. She can’t sleep. Not while Josie might hate her.

Josie nods.   
  
  


“You were.” She acknowledges. “And you owe Wade an apology.”

Hope lingers around. “Are you mad at me?”   
  


  
A pause.   
  
  


“No.” Josie replies, finally, and Hope lets out a sigh of relief. “But I’m having trouble sleeping. I assumed you were, too, because we...” 

_Because we might be soulmates?_

Josie doesn’t say anything more. Hope can’t sleep, so Josie can’t either. The invisible string tugs and tugs. Hope allows it to pull her into bed beside Josie.


	8. Chapter 8

It’s morning. Hope can tell by the sunlight bathing over her face, distinctly different than the warmth behind her. The light fights to leak in through her closed eyelids, but she keeps them shut, content with her plan to stay in bed with Josie for as long as physically possible.

Josie is impossibly comfortable and snuggly, her chest molded to Hope’s back, one arm encircling Hope’s waist, and one long leg slung over Hope’s hip. It’s blissful.

Hope lies awake for an hour or more, pretending to be asleep. She listens to the steady thump of Josie’s heart instead of her own thoughts. Hope knows that if she gets out of bed, she’ll inevitably have to face the world and every bad thing in it. Pretending to be asleep is easier. Pretending is always easier, in her experience. So, she keeps her eyes firmly shut and fades away, into a life where Landon is alive, she didn’t rudely tell off Wade at a funeral, and her only task today is to cuddle with Josie Saltzman.

(It’s a pretty good task.)

She manages to catch another few, lazy minutes of not-sleep, before Josie begins to stir awake.

“Hope?” Josie makes a noise, something muffled and soft that could be a grumble or a yawn. “Are you up yet?”

Hope should probably respond, but instead she sticks to her plan. She slows her breathing a bit and forces her body to sag, as pliant and slack as a bag of potatoes in Josie’s arms.

It works.

Josie says nothing more. Hope feels something soft and damp against the nape of her neck (her stomach jolts oddly—she is pretty sure Josie just kissed her), followed by a gentle squeeze to her arms, and then Josie is silently slipping out of the bed. The mattress creaks as it dips, just barely, like Josie is trying her best not to make noise on her way out. Hope stays completely still until she hears the dull thud of the bedroom door closing.

Once she is sure she’s alone, Hope rolls onto her back and faces the ceiling. One side of the bed is still warm. She brushes her palm over it, feels the quickly fading heat of Josie’s body.

Eventually the lingering spot of warmth goes cold and Hope is forced to entertain herself. She uses her fingertips to tap out a random beat on Josie’s headboard. She hums a song, too. She realizes halfway through this that she hasn’t drummed for what feels like years. She hasn’t painted, either. It’s only now that Hope realizes how restless she really feels, as if her bones will jump right out of her skin if she doesn’t do something soon.

Josie comes back in a second later, smelling like fruity soap and drying her damp hair with a towel. She smiles when she sees Hope, and Hope can’t help but mirror her expression.

“Hey.” Josie climbs up on the bed, resting on her knees. Her skin is faintly pink, reddened by the hot water, and Hope has trouble deciding if she wants to paint or kiss her.

Both?

Both.

Hope ends up doing neither. “Hey. How was your shower?”

“Um, good.” Josie replies, her nose scrunching up slightly at Hope’s question. Thankfully, Josie seems to find it more endearing than weird. “I think Lizzie is making breakfast. Do you want to come eat with us?”

“Sure.” Hope sits up. She stretches her arms high above her head, muscles loosening.

One meal shouldn’t be too bad, even if it’s with Lizzie. Food is food. At least Josie will be there.

Hope looks down at her clothes. Her legs itch a little from sleeping in jeans and her skin has an odd, barely-damp quality that is probably due to spending the night next to someone else’s body heat.

“Can I borrow something to wear?” Hope asks and Josie nods, already opening a drawer.

“Go ahead. Take whatever fits.”

Josie’s closet is full of skirts and shorts, most of them bright colors Hope wouldn’t dare to wear. Not to mention the giant sweater collection. She has to sort through what seems like a ridiculous amount of yellows and pinks before she comes across some sweatpants and a black top. Even then, the clothes don’t exactly fit her.

Hope pulls them on and frowns as she sees the shirt fall well past her waist. She’s in the middle of rolling the pants around her hips when Josie catches her and smirks.

“Shut up.” Hope chooses to ignore the flush of embarrassment that rises to her cheeks. It’s not like she can help her height.

Besides, she isn’t that short. Really.

“I didn’t say anything.” Josie shrugs innocently and Hope rolls her eyes.

The two of them head downstairs after that, both of them hungry and moving fast. Lizzie is already down there, pushing scrambled eggs around in a pan with her spatula. There’s a bowl of pancake mix waiting on the counter and coffee brewing in the machine. Hope’s stomach growls unhelpfully at the sight of food.

As she gets further into the kitchen, Hope notices that Mr. Saltzman is here as well. He’s sitting at the counter, head in an opened newspaper, not saying much to anyone.

Hope tries to help with the pancakes, but Lizzie bats her away as soon as she gets close.

“Nope. I’m not letting you ruin this meal.” Lizzie states dramatically, like they’re on an episode of Cutthroat Kitchen instead of preparing a simple breakfast.

“It’s eggs and pancakes.” Hope deadpans. “How could I possibly ruin it?”

“I’m sure you have your ways.”

Hope has no idea what she did to make Lizzie dislike her, but it’s clear that she does. Maybe Lizzie is just naturally like this. Although, Hope doesn’t see how that can be the case when her twin is a literal ball of sunshine.

“Lizzie, don’t be rude.” Josie says, with practiced ease, like she’s had to apologize for her sister’s lack of tact before. “Hope, you can go sit at the table if you want.”

“Fine.” Hope agrees, if only to get out of another conversation with Lizzie.

She immediately regrets her choice when she realizes this means that she has to sit all alone with Mr. Saltzman.

Great.

Hope sits down in the chair across from him. The man glances over his newspaper to look at her and raises his eyebrows, perplexed. He turns his head towards his daughters, as if he needs to count to make sure he has two instead of three.

Mr. Saltzman sets his newspaper down. “You’re Hope, right? The neighbor?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmm.” He scratches the side of his face, where patches of stubble are growing. “It’s nice to see that Josie has a new girlfriend.”

“Oh, no. We—“ Hope clamps her mouth shut as the twins enter, carrying four plates of food.

Josie sets a plate down in front of Hope and sits beside her, but not before dropping a kiss to the top of Hope’s head.

Twice.

That’s twice now that Josie has kissed her since they woke up this morning. It sends a little thrill down Hope’s spine. It also feels slightly unfair, because she hasn’t gotten to return any of them. She has the urge to lean over and press her lips to Josie’s cheek, but, considering how it went the last time, Hope decides against it. She quells the urge by shoving a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

Hope has trouble not blushing. She can usually keep her emotions in check, but it’s hard to do while surrounded by Josie’s family. She can feel Lizzie and Mr. Saltzman staring at her, definitely having seen that display of affection.

It’s just a stupid kiss. A platonic, friendly thing, at least until one of them gets some confirmation that Josie is her soulmate.

Hope comes to the startling realization that she’s never asked Josie when her birthday actually is.

How could she not have asked?

“Hey, Jo?” She leans over and taps Josie’s ankle with her shoe to get her attention. “When’s your birthday?”

“September 25th. Why?”

( _Less than a month,_ she notes to herself silently. Enough time to come up with some sort of plan.)

Hope shrugs. “No reason. Just wondering.”

Josie seems skeptical. In fact, she doesn’t seem to believe Hope at all, but thankfully, she doesn’t say anything else about it.

They finish the rest of their meal in comfortable silence, busying themselves with their food. By the time it’s over, Hope’s stomach feels heavy and full. She sort of regrets eating so much.

She is sipping the remainder of her coffee when Lizzie and Mr. Saltzman stand up, leaving Josie and Hope at the table.

“We’re going for a walk.” Josie says, out of the blue. She dabs her mouth with a napkin.

The way she brings it up seems too casual.

Hope frowns. “Now? Where?”

“Wade’s house.” Josie carefully sets her utensils onto her plate. She continues speaking, as if she expects Hope to protest. “I got his address at the funeral. He lives near us. You need to apologize to him for what you said.”

Although this is one of the things Hope wanted to avoid this morning, she knows Josie is right. She was incredibly rude to Wade. It wasn’t his fault and he didn’t deserve it, he was just in her line of fire at the time.

So, Hope agrees. “Fine.”

—

Just as Josie said, Wade’s house is not that far from theirs.

It’s within walking distance, maybe a couple of blocks away. Hope has walked by it numerous times before and never known that he lived here, which isn’t surprising. They aren’t exactly friends. She walks up to the door, past the neat garden in the front, and knocks while Josie waits for her on the sidewalk.

Wade’s dad answers, which leads to short, but uncomfortable conversation about why Hope is here. His father calls for Wade to come to the door.

“Hope?” Wade pops his head out cautiously, then the rest of him follows. “Why are you here?”

“I came to see how you were doing.” Hope says, shifting from side to side restlessly.

“Okay, I guess.”

“Good.” She notices that Wade’s cheeks are a bit pink up close, like he might be embarrassed or something. A part of her thinks that he might’ve been crying. “I also wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday. It was… cruel of me.”

Apologies have never really been her strong suit.

Wade nods once. “It’s fine.”

“It wasn’t, but thank you.” Hope lingers on their front porch for a second longer, unsure if there’s anything more to say.

She has the fleeting thought that this would be a lot easier if Josie had come with her. Josie is the friendly one, out of the two of them. She’s better at stuff like this.

It’s clear that it’s time for Hope to go. She takes a step back. “See you at school?”

“See you at school.” Wade replies, before closing the door.

Okay.

That went… well?

Hope is still confused about whether or not that was a success. It sort of was. She walks back down the driveway and comes to stand beside Josie.

“How’d it go?” Josie asks.

“Alright.” Hope responds, earning a questioning look from Josie. “I mean… good, I think. I told him I’m sorry.”

“Good.”

They leave Wade’s house after that, arms linked at the elbows.

**. . .**

Throughout the next couple of weeks, Hope tries her best to not spiral too far into her thoughts. It becomes easy to pick up a routine of drumming in the afternoons, attentending school during the week, and hanging out with her friends as much as possible. Anything that keeps her from going into the garage and locking herself in there for a week. She’s determined not to pick up any more unhealthy habits.

So, she spends most of her days banging on the drums until her fingers hurt and going on runs to tire herself out—usually, by the time Hope circles back around to her house, she’s a tired, sweaty mess.

It’s easier this way. Safer. Hope likes distractions.

Her favorite pastime is painting. She can almost feel the tension drain out of her body every time she picks up a brush. Her second favorite thing to do is hang out with Josie. She likes hearing her voice or simply seeing her face.

Naturally, Hope decides that she needs to find a way to combine the two activities.

One Sunday morning, Hope wakes up extra early to go over to Josie’s house. She packs an easel, a blank canvas, various paints and brushes, and a sleepy Josie Saltzman in Rebekah’s borrowed car. They drive an hour, out to a lake that Hope hasn’t visited in a while, and set up a blanket on the dock. They watch the sunrise.

To be more accurate: Josie watches the sunrise. Hope paints it.

It’s a cliche thing to paint, but Hope doesn’t care. She just wants to do something. Anything. There is also something inherently pleasant about the sunrise. The fact that it will always rise, no matter how Hope feels. No matter if she’s sad or crying, or inexplicably happy. It always happens. It’s a constant promise in a world of uncertainties.

Hope brushes strokes of dim yellow and peach over the canvas as the sun breaks the horizon, colors bursting both from the world and from her paintbrush.

“Can I help somehow?” Josie asks her, halfway through. Her question startles Hope.

She would say that she forgot Josie was there, but that’s a lie. She’s been completely aware of Josie’s presence this whole time, she just didn’t expect Josie to say something or be standing so close.

“You don’t have to.” Hope says, but Josie shakes her head.

“No, I _want_ to help.”

Hope shows Josie how to wash the paintbrushes properly. Josie listens intently before following the instructions just as she was told. It brings a small smile to Hope’s face, watching Josie clean them so thoroughly, like she’s aching to take care of something.

They continue on that way for a while, moving in silent harmony. Hope feels a certain peace inside of herself that hasn’t been there for years.

Out of the blue, Josie strums something on her ukulele. Hope has never heard the tune before.

“What’s that?” Hope looks over her shoulder and looks at Josie, who is sitting on the dock, ukulele in her lap. Her cheeks are flushed pink and her hair is blown messy from the whipping wind.

“It’s your painting.” Josie swipes her fingers along the strings again. The sound is light and airy, and it climbs up to a higher pitch as she plays more of it, rising the same way as the sun.

It is her painting. In song form, that is.

“I like it.” Hope tells her, voice soft around the edges. She steps away from her canvas. “I’m done.”

While Josie inspects it for a solid minute, Hope stands, bouncing nervously on her heels.

“It’s gorgeous.” Josie whispers finally, in awe. Her fingers twitch, as if she intends to reach out and touch it, but instead they land elsewhere.

Josie runs her hand over Hope’s back, diligently massaging a tense spot until it loosens. And this is important, somehow, that even without words, Josie can tell what Hope wants.

When the sun reaches its full height, high up in the air, they lay on the dock and bathe in its light.

“Do you know what you want for your birthday?” Hope stretches her arm across her forehead to block the sunlight out of her eyes.

“My first choice is a secret.” Josie replies. Hope cracks an eye open to sneak a glance at her and spots a sly grin splitting her lips. “But as for the second one, I don’t really know. Maybe a plant.”

“A plant?” Hope repeats skeptically. “A real one?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” She frowns. “It’ll die.”

“So? It dying doesn’t mean it’s ruined. It’s just… different. Besides, the fake ones don’t smell as nice or look as cool. And I feel like I can’t name something that’s not living, unless it’s a stuffed animal.”

At the stuffed animal comment, the urge to call Josie adorable bubbles up in Hope’s chest. She chooses to ignore it.

“What would you name it?” Hope twists onto her side to face Josie.

“Hmm…” Josie thinks for a moment, but then she grins in the way she only does when trying not to laugh. “Probably Hope. You know, ‘cause plants are short.”

Hope stares at the ridiculous, giggling girl in front of her and tries to pretend that her heart doesn’t warm at the sound of her laughter. Josie is too busy snickering to herself to notice Hope looking at her.

Oh god. It’s like Josie’s a kindergartener.

The joke bruises Hope’s pride just a bit. In a tiny act of revenge, she grabs her brush and swipes it across Josie’s cheek. Josie gasps, her laughter cutting off abruptly.

“Hope!”

Now Hope is the one laughing.

Once Hope calms down, an idea springs to her head. Brush still in hand, she lifts it up to Josie’s face once again and leaves a stroke of white.

“What are you doing?” Josie asks, not leaning away, but clearly hesitant.

“Trust me.” Hope meets Josie’s eyes. Her voice is small for some inexplicable reason. The world seems to lose all air for a moment, but then Josie nods and the oxygen returns in an instant.

“Okay.”

There’s a simple intimacy in painting someone’s face that Hope didn’t expect. She’s never actually painted on someone before. The closest that she has come is drawing a dick on the side of MG’s face one day during class, but that was different and mostly for joking purposes. She paints over Josie’s skin slowly, with care. It doesn’t take her long to finish, considering Josie’s cheek is small, and when Hope is done she takes a picture of it so that Josie can see.

It’s a white wolf.

It stands out against Josie’s face, a snowy color on a bed of tan skin.

“You’re beautiful.” Hope blurts and presses her lips shut almost a second later. She’s not one to randomly compliment people. The fact that she let it slip from her mouth so easily makes her feel a bit embarrassed.

“Yeah.” Josie agrees, distractedly. “It’s a cute wolf. You’re a really great artist, Hope.”

“No. I meant _you_.” Hope corrects her.

“Oh.”

Their eyes lock suddenly. Hope holds her breath, unable to force air into her lungs or move an inch in any direction. Unable to do anything but stare at Josie, caught in suspense, willing Josie to get closer. Josie must read her mind, because she leans forward into Hope’s space, enough for their foreheads to touch.

She jumps slightly when she hears a phone ring.

“Sorry.” Josie apologizes and tilts back, reaching out to get her phone. She swipes her finger over the screen before holding it up to her ear. “Yeah? Oh, hey, Lizzie.”

Ugh.

Hope takes a deep, staggering breath that does absolutely nothing to slow down the racing of her heart. She feels as if she’s wanted to kiss Josie for centuries.

“I’ll pack up our stuff.” She mouths to Josie. Hope gets a nod from her in return.

Sighing, Hope gathers their belongings and loads them into the car. She can’t shake off the feeling of disappointment.

**. . .**

There are a lot of feelings that Hope can’t shake off. Sometimes she still wakes up with the ghosts of her loved ones printed on the insides of her eyelids.

But she’s starting to feel better, and she’s grateful for that.

**. . .**

From what Hope hears throughout the following days, the twins have really been struggling to figure out what they’ll be doing in their free time.

Apparently, the problem isn’t that they have no ideas. The problem is that they have way too many and they all conflict with each other.

“Lizzie wants some big, gaudy party.” Josie tells Hope, while they sit on her couch and watch a show that Hope is only half-interested in. Most of her attention is on Josie and not the TV. “I want something simple. Like a movie night or a day at the pool. Lizzie is being stubborn about it.”

Hope thinks for a moment. “Why not do both? You could have a party then watch a movie after.”

“Huh. That could work. Hope, you’re a lifesaver.” Josie swings her legs off the couch and gets up, presumably to go talk to Lizzie.

Hope just suggested the obvious answer, but okay.

Sisters are weird.

—

Hope gets there early for Josie and Lizzie’s party.

She feels sort of ridiculous, standing outside on their porch while cradling a potted plant, but the present makes Josie smile, so Hope can’t really complain.

“Hey.” Hope spreads her arms to give Josie a hug. She holds her tight. “Happy birthday, Jo.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you came early.” Josie takes the plant, ushering Hope inside.

“No problem. You look nice.”

Josie is already dressed up, wearing a black skirt and a blood red top that’s cropped just above her navel. Not only does Josie look pretty, but she is also showing off a fair amount of skin. Hope can’t stop her eyes from sweeping over her legs and bare stomach, wondering where Josie’s mark could be. She doesn’t see it anywhere. It must be hidden somewhere.

“You, too.” Josie replies. She shuts the door and leans against it, a subtle smirk on her mouth.

There’s an odd energy surrounding Josie. It feels as if Josie is smug about something, but Hope has no idea as to what.

She’s looking at Hope differently than before.

Closely.

It actually kind of seems as if Josie is checking her out. Hope notices the way that Josie’s gaze dips as she looks. Honestly, Hope feels mildly underdressed next to Josie, wearing jeans and a simple V-neck top, but Josie seems to like it.

Hope feels confident enough to lean closer, almost trapping Josie against the door. Josie doesn’t look too mad about it.

“Did you, uh, get your mark yet?” Hope questions nervously. Josie nods.

“Yep.” Josie slips past Hope as soon as she says it, walking further down the hall without looking back. Hope frowns, feeling as if Josie is playing with her somehow.

She hastily follows after Josie, tracing over the skin of her back for any sign of a mark. No luck.

Hope just wants to know already.

“Is that Hope?” Lizzie calls loudly. “Mikaelson! I need help setting up cups!”

Hope makes a pained face, but Josie only laughs and shoves Hope into the kitchen to go help. She assists the twins with setting up everything until other people start to get there.

The first half of the party isn’t very fun for Hope, but this is the part that Lizzie suggested, so she isn’t surprised. She used to like gigantic, raging parties. It was always enjoyable, being able to fade into the crowd, but now everyone she sees feels the need to bring up Landon.

It’s the funeral all over again and Hope is having none of it. She finds Josie and clings to her side for most of the night. Wherever the brunette is, Hope is there, too.

They hop from person to person, stopping to see MG’s dance moves and chat with Jed about beer pong. They find Penelope smoking outside, in a circle of other teenagers, and talk to her for a bit about the existence of aliens. When Josie drags her towards Rafael (and, by extension, the keg he is doing a stand on), Hope nearly complains, but bites her tongue because it’s a special event. Instead of outwardly saying anything, she holds Josie’s waist extra tight. She remembers that he went on a date with Josie not long ago and can’t fight the spike of possessiveness.

“What’s up, birthday girl?” Rafael wipes the beer off his mouth, using the back of his hand.

“Hey, Raf.”

Rafael tugs Josie into a short hug. Hope stands beside them, watching like a hawk. Needless to say, she is happy when they part ways with him to go see Kaleb mix drinks in the kitchen.

“Josie, you’ve got to try this.” Kaleb offers Josie some weird looking shot that has three different colors in it.

Hope opts for a glass of whiskey, like a normal person. The alcohol soothes her nerves a little, making being around a crowd bearable.

“What is it?” Josie asks skeptically.

Kaleb grins. “I’m calling it Birthday Bliss.”

Hope is watching Josie tongue a shot glass with rapt attention when Penelope saddles up to her.

“Your gay is showing.” Penelope whispers into her ear. Hope pulls her gaze away from Josie’s mouth for long enough to glare at Penelope.

“Shut up.”

“You love her.” She sing-songs childishly.

“You’re high, Penelope.” Hope points out. She glances at Josie, then back at Penelope, who is attempting to comb through Hope’s hair like she is a cat. It gives Hope a new understanding as to why Yoda hisses at everyone. “Go sit down.”

“Not even.” Penelope protests, but wanders off anyways.

Once Penelope is gone, Hope feels comfortable enough to resume her staring. She looks again and accidentally makes eye contact with Josie. Josie winks at her and tosses back another shot.

Hope’s whole body burns.

—

By the time the night comes along, the group has narrowed down to Josie, Hope, Lizzie, Jed, MG, Kaleb, and Rafael.

Half of them are sprawled out on the floor, while a select few have spots on the couch. Josie and Lizzie are there, of course, and so are MG, Jed, and Kaleb. Hope plans to find a place on the floor, but Josie yanks her into her lap before she can. Warm arms encircle her waist. Hope’s heart jumps into her throat.

“You’re my favorite.” Josie whispers, her mouth held against Hope’s ear. “Sit here.”

_Oh_.

“Okay.” Hope agrees, fighting a blush, her mind going blank at the sound of being called Josie’s favorite.

They put on a Disney movie. Hope smiles. She guesses this was Josie’s pick.

As the movie goes on, Hope starts to zone out. She occasionally gets distracted by the feeling of Josie pressed against her back or by Kaleb and Jed’s good-natured bickering. Hope also starts to notice how touchy MG and Lizzie are being. MG is snuggled up closer to Lizzie than he usually is, nearly glued to her side. Hope watches them for a while until she spots the matching marks on their bodies.

She leans over to him, filled with warmth for her friend. “Congrats.”

“You, too.” MG whispers back.

His response causes Hope’s eyebrows to pinch together in confusion. She belatedly realizes that MG thinks her and Josie are dating.

Hope figures protesting would be useless, since she is currently planted on Josie’s lap. Besides, this isn’t the first time that someone assumed that she is dating Josie. It’s not really a bad thing.

—

Everyone has left except for Hope.

She lingers in the Saltzman house. Hope has an unspoken agreement with Josie that she’s going to stay the night, like she usually does when it’s the weekend.

Josie clamps a hand around her wrist and starts to guide her upstairs. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

Hope swallows hard and nods.

“Be safe!” Lizzie yells after them, obnoxiously loud. The only reason that Hope doesn’t flip Lizzie off is because it’s still her birthday.

Josie leads her into her bedroom and closes the door behind them. She turns the lights on. Hope sits on the edge of the bed without hesitation. She’s pretty sure the mattress has a permanent dip from her ass at this point.

“What’d you want to show me?” Hope asks. She notices Josie already put her plant on a shelf and smiles faintly to herself.

Josie says nothing, instead unzipping her skirt.

Hope points her eyes to the ground. “Uh, did you enjoy your party—“

Her words are cut off by Josie’s index finger, held to Hope’s mouth.

“I did. It was great, but shh.” Josie taps her finger against Hope’s bottom lip. “I want to show you something. Be quiet. Just let me, okay?”

Hope nods.

She breaks her promise seconds later. “Wait. Are you drunk, because—“

“No, I’m not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hope.” Josie sighs, a fond smile slipping onto her face. “What did I say?”

Right. Be quiet.

Hope clamps her mouth shut and watches. Her nerves jump in anticipation as Josie pushes the skirt down. It slips off of her hips and pools at her feet in a circle. Hope’s heartbeat thuds rapidly at the attractive sight in front of her. She rakes her eyes up mile-long legs and stops dead on Josie’s left hip.

It’s the talisman.

Josie is her soulmate. There’s proof now. Finally.

“Holy shit.” Hope breathes softly.

Josie laughs breathily and doesn’t scold her for talking this time. Hope brushes her thumb over the mark in amazement, still not sure that it’s real.

“You’re not disappointed?” Josie chews her lower lip, a hint of anxiety showing through.

“I’m not disappointed at all.” Hope can’t help but lean forward and kiss the mark in adoration. She feels blissful, teeming with contentment. “Trust me, Jo, I want you more than you know.”

Hope peppers kiss after kiss onto the mark, until Josie is squirming and giggling, half-heartedly pushing her away.

“Stop, I’m ticklish.” Josie laughs. It’s a bright, adorable sound.

Hope grins up at her. “Oh yeah?”

In the blink of an eye, Hope has Josie under her, both of them on the bed. She presses tiny kisses across Josie’s stomach, pecking every inch of bare skin that she can reach. Josie shakes with laughter the entire time. Eventually, Hope climbs up Josie’s body so she is able to look her in the eye.

Josie looks so beautiful right now, her face alight with joy and a rosy color, beaming smile splitting her face.

Hope strokes her thumb over Josie’s full mouth, in awe of the softness of it. Josie falls quiet. She stares at Hope meaningfully and, before Hope can decipher that look, Josie surges up to press their lips together.

Their mouths meet wantonly, all of the pent-up emotion of several months giving way to a wave of passion. Hope presses into her like she can’t stand to be apart from Josie for a single second, and Josie presses back just the same. The kiss tastes like the fruity drinks they had downstairs, sharp from alcohol but sweet from sugar. Josie unravels her with lips and tongue, the heat of her utterly overwhelming.

Hope wouldn’t have it any other way.

As they break away for breath, Josie whispers into the space between them. “Hey, Hope? This was my first choice.”

They crash into each other, again and again, and gold bursts behind Hope’s eyelids every time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s the end, folks :)


End file.
